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For Reference 

Not to be taken from this room 

Every person who maliciously 
cuts, defaces, breaks or injures 
any book, mop, chart, picture, 
engraving, statue, coin, model, 
apparatus, or other work of lit- 
erature, art, mechanics or ob- 
ject of curiosity, deposited in 
any public library, gallery, 
museum or collection is guilty 
of a misdemeanor. 

Penal Code of California, 

1915, Section 623. 


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How America Lives: 


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PETER WYDEN Executive Editor 






Home Management 


Pub/ic Affairi 




Cop y-Production 





Betty Felton 
Martha Petrash 


Schuyler W. Cutler 
Margaret Kadison 
Sandie North 
Joan Paulson 
Lee Pettee 
Sylvia Plapinger 
Mary Sykes 
Joyce White 


Joyce Dattel 
Joni Goldfinger 


Bruce Danbrot 
Neil Costa 
Assisfant Art Directors 

Roberta L. Weissleder 

^RUCE CLERKE Managing Editor HERBERT BLEIWEISS Art Director 

ARTICLES 16 Traveling with Children? 

49 He Never Said Good-bye Roslyn Rosen 

50 The Improbable Private Life of Mrs. Johnny Carson GaelGreene 
58 How America Lives: For the Single Girl: A New Way of 

Life in California GaelGreene 

62 Lynda Bird Johnson's Hollywood Beauty Treatment Vernon Scott 
71 One City That Cares— Enough to Make Every Mother's 

Day-Care Dream Come True Jhan and June Robbins 

FICTION 56 Mark and the Rest of the World Marnie Ellingson 

63 A Sense of Happiness Malissa Red field 




6 Our Readers Write Us 

8 Have You Heard? Lois Benjamin 

11 If It Were My Child 

18 Junior Journal Margaret Kadison 

24 Amy Vanderbilt 

2G Spending Your Money Sylvia Porter 

34 Can This Marriage Be Saved? 

Beth Cheated Her Creative Talent Dorothy Cameron Disney 

39 Dialogue with Mothers Dr. Bruno Bettelheim 

41 Medicine Today Phyllis Wright, M.D., with Victor Cohn 

45 Pet News Joyce Dattel 

94 Shopping Center 

Fashion Site 

Sequined Dresses: Look Like a Million for Less Than $20 
Nora O'Leary 

72 Oh, Those Lovable Knits Trudy Owett 

BEAUTY 46 Project: You 

76 How You'll Be Different This Summer Susan Harney 

FOOD 23 Table for Two 

78 The Art of Mexican Cooking 

80 Frosty Finales Poppy Cannon 

82 Things to Do with Refrigerated Cookie Dough 

84 Peg Bracken's Appendix Peg Bracken 

86 Line a Day 

112 Wine, Women & So On 

112 Recipe Index 

30 How to Be an Organized Cook Margaret Davidson 

28 The Great Summer Switch-around Margaret White 



J. M. CLIFFORD President 


On our cover: Dazzling red and blue sequined sweater to knit now tor less than $10; to wear later like a millionairess, to the first big party of 
the fall. See our fabulous sequined dresseson page 60. To order directions for making sweaterand dresses, see page 100. Pants made of jersey 
by William Heller from Vogue Pattern 6725. Photograph by WILLIAM HELBURN. Other photographs and illustrations not credited on page: 
8-bottom photograph by Len Weiss; 10-Arnold Arlow; 16-Ben Swedowsky; 20-center and bottom photographs by Adam Ritchie; illustrations 
by Anne Marie Barden; 24-Melvin Sokolsky; 46-John Woods; 23-Harry O. Diamond; 43-photograph by Walter Chandoa; 86-John Alcorn. 

S 1966 The Curtis Publishing Company, Philadelphia. Pa. 19105. All Rights reserved. Title reg. Patent Office and foreign countries. Published monthly. Second-Class 
postage paid at Philadelphia, Pa., and at additional mailing offices. Entered as Second Class Matter at the Post Office Department, Ottawa, Canada, by Curtis Distributing 
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1 Yr. $4.00. All other countries, 1 Yr., $5.00. Unconditional Guarantee: We agree, upon request direct from subscribers to the Philadelphia office, to refund the 
■ull amount paid for any copies of Curtis publications not previously mailed. The Curtis Publishing Company, J. IVI. Clifford, President; Mary Curtis Zimbalist, Sr. Vice Pres.; 
Gary w Bok, Sr. Vice Pres., Leon J. Marks, Sr. Vice Pres.; G. B. McCombs, Sr. Vice Pres.; Maurice W. Poppei, Sr. Vice Pres.; Calvin A. Nichols, Treasurer; Gloria L. Swett, 
if-cretary Robert L. Sherrod. Vice Pres., Editorial Coordinator; J. Michael Hadley, Vice Pres., Publisher. Ladies' Home Journal. The Company also publishes The Saturday 
L. rning Post, Holiday. American Home, and Jack and Jill. Executive offices Ladies' Home Journal, Independence Square, Philadelphia. Pennsylvania 19105. Editorial and 
i^ivertising offices. Ladies' Home Journal, 641 Lexington Avenue, New York, New York 10022. 

Adver'ising and Sales: John F. Dunn, Vice Pres., Advertising Director; Fred C. Danneman, Marketing Manager; John E. Fuller, Field Sales Manager; Gardner L. Clish, New York Sales 
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Sales I1.3nager; Patricia Tregellas. Editorial Promotion Manager; Stephen E. Silver, Sales Development Manager; Audrey Allen, Press Information. 

Change of Address: With service adiustment requests send latest mailing labels, including those from duplicate copies, to Ladies' Home Journal Subscription Service, Phila- 
Gelphia, Pennsylvania 19105. Allow six weeks for change of address. 


Cha}ifie your address in advance 
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Should This Father Raise His Son? 

Dear Editors: YES, the father should 
raise his son, and since I felt that way, 
I read your "No" article first, in How 
America Lives: Should this Father 
Raise His Son? (May Journal). It was 
well stated; the man was irresponsible, 
self-centered and thoughtless. I know 
very few parents who don't have a touch 
of these ailments. I have been married 
for 1.3 years to an actor, and we have 
three children. My family disapproves of 
my husband, and friends feel sorry for 
me, but he is a fine father. He is intelli- 
gent, affectionate and quite capable of 
raising bright, happy young people. 
Furthermore, the kids love him very 

Sometimes it's rough living as the 
family of a creative person, rough finan- 
cially; but this doesn't mean that he is 
a bad parent. A millionaire would be 
lovely, but I'll take a man I can respect, 
a man who is a good father. 

I think Mr. Painter has the right to 
prove he can be a good father. 

Mrs. William Morey 
Traverse City, Mich. 

Dear Editors: Because of the unusual 
decision of the court, I read the entire 
transcript of the Painter-Bannister case, 
in the Des Moines Register. 

It is too easy to decide that the court 
was wrong, particularly when some of 
the language of the decision lends itself 
to the emotional issue of "conventional, 
middle-class atmosphere" against "Bo- 
hemian" living. Those who never read 
beyond a headline will think the court 
decided in favor of Midwestern living, 
but if they read the complete decision, 
they know the paramount issue was the 
child's welfare. 

Mrs. Eunice Blair 
Denison, loira 

The Doctor's Dilemma 

Dear Editors: In Abortion: The Doc- 
tor's Dilemma (May Journal), Dr. X 
encouraged readers to believe that rela- 
tively safe criminal abortions are easy 
to obtain. My husband and I have been 
practicing medicine together for about 
15 years, and don't agree with Dr. X 
that a city of 200,000 can be expected to 
have "at least four competent, reliable 
abortionists at work"- or even one. I 
don't believe that the "overwhelming 
majority" of physicians in the city 
would send patients to an abortionist. 

The difficulties of an unwanted preg- 
nancy are almost never insoluble, al- 
though they may seem so at first. Preg- 
nancy doesn't last forever, even if the 
I)regnant woman thinks it will. But 
many problems created by abortions are 
permanent. P'atal to the child and dan- 
gerous to the mother, abortion should 
alHO be considered from the standpoint 
of the infertile couple eager Ir) adopt. 

Abortions deny life to the children who 
could have filled their empty arms. 

Doris G. North, M.D. 

Wichita, Kaiis. 

Dear Editors : Bravo for your fine article, 
telling the truth about abortion and 
stating the case for its legalization. The 
writer (Dr. X) has his facts straight. It 
is married women, not teen-agers, who 
keep the abortionist in business, and 
they are referred by doctors who back- 
stop and cover up in case something goes 
wrong. . . . The basis for my assertions is 
15 years' experience with one of the most 
reputable doctors in a large Eastern city. 

Name withheld 

Sex Research 

Dear Editors: Should This Sex Rb- 
SE..\RCH Be Allowed to Go On? (May 
Journal) is the best review I have read on 
this subject. It was objective and fair, 
and left the reader to make his own de- 
cision. In fact, it left me almost under- 
standing the need for such research, 
though wondering how it ever could 
have been accomplished. 

Miss Ellen Kelly 
Tonawanda, N.Y. 

Dear Editors: Dr. Masters and Mrs. 
Johnson claim they have not forgotten 
love in their experiments. But how can 
two people who indulge in sex out of 
"intellectual curiosity" claim to be using 
sex as an expression of love? Further- 
more, the persons involved in this re- 
search have forgotten a quality of human 
sexuality just as important as love. That 
quality is dignity. Who can retain dig- 
nity in the sexual union while attached 
to scientific apparatus, under brilliant 
lighting, in the presence of two people 
and a movie camera? And once you have 
lost dignity you have lost human sexu- 
ality and are left with animal instinct. 

Only when love and dignity are pres- 
ent in this area of human relations can 
scientists find any accurate data, and I 
don't think Dr. Masters possibly could 
have preserved these qualities with his 
methods of research. gHARON Lewis 

• Ely, Nev. 

To Mrs. Harris 

Dear Editors: After reading a letter from 
Mrs. Raymond Harris in Our Readers 
Write Us (May Journal), I wanted to 
shake her hand and say, "Good for 
you !" I gave up art school, college and a 
good job just so I could get married. I 
don't get paid with money. My pay is 
more rewarding— a happy husband and 
time. Time to do what I want, to spend 
with him or my hobbies. Working wives, 
I don't envy your extra money one iota ! 

Mrs. George Knott 
Grooeville, N.J. 

Tipping Controversy Continued 

Dear Editors: Concerning the portion 
about tipping in the February Amy 
Vanderbilt column. ... To say that 
supermarket chains simply add a deliv- 
ery charge is highly questionable. . . . 
Any grocery merchant in California 
learning of his employees' accepting tips 
would doubtless effect said employees' 
termination, and I'm sure this can be 
said for most stores in this country. 

John M. Sperry 
Retail Clerks Union Local 1428 
I'dViona, (Uilif. 


hy James Beard 

jj America's foremost cook-author 

How much showmanship do you put 
into a savory summer buffet? Like in 
the theatre, unless you do it with 
love and flair, you can have a flop. 
Happy dipping sets the mood. Pass 
around this sure-hit sauce for raw veg- 
etables crisped ahead in Baggies.® 
Blender-blend (one min.): 18 an- 
chovy fillets; 1 peeled lemon; 3 
cloves garlic; 1 tsp. black pepper; 
1 cup olive oil; V2 cup parsley. 

My serving secret— avoid conglom- 
eration. A limited food variety is bet- 
ter. One meat dish, usually a vege- 
table and relish or salad. I often 
serve whole rare fillets of beef mari- 
nated in soy, sherry, garlic and olive 
oil, then roasted 25 minutes. Or 
cooked corned beef, sliced and made 
zesty with English mustard (dry 
mustard and vinegar). 

Freshest buffet meats I've tasted 
come out of storage in Baggies Plas- 
tic Bags (Food Wrap or Jumbo size). 
Can a wrap make a difference? Yes 
indeed! Take ground meat. Stored 
in foil or sheet plastic, it starts to 
turn brown and unappetizing even 
the first day. But in Baggies, meat 
stays fresh and juicy . . . redder 
longer. Bag all your meat cuts. 
Conversation catcher: Hot herb 
bread 'in halves, butter-creamed 
with scallions, chives, fresh dill. 
Good cooking to you. 


If you're hoping for a musical 
genius to sprout in your family, you 
can spot him budding at a much 
tenderer age than you think. 

According to a recent report by a 
University of California music spe- 
cialist, Nicholas Slonimsky, of all 
talents, the gift for music shows up 

In fact, it can be tested as soon as 
Junior learns the names of the keys 
on a piano. Then, if he can identify 
any note on the scale the moment 
you hit it for him, he has the gift 
known as absolute pitch — the inborn 
mark of musicianship. 

"To such a child," Slonimsky says, 
"C sharp is as incontrovertibly C 
sharp as the color green is green. 

"But what is most remarkable," 
Slonimsky says, "is that the posses- 
sion of absolute pitch — a purely 
passive sense — leads to the active 
ability to play the piano or the 
violin. The ability to name colors 
doesn't indicate a talent for painting." 

Why is the situation different in 
music? Nobody really knows — yet, 
Slonimsky says, statistical evidence 
is overwhelming that "every little 
absolute pitcher grows up to be at 
least a passable pianist or violinist." 

Slonimsky suggests that if a child 
reacts to musical notes played on the 
piano or heard on radio and TV, if 
he seems to recognize melodic pat- 
terns and individual notes as natu- 
rally as he does a familiar word, he 
should be tested for absolute pitch. 

The test should be conducted as 
follows: (1) A note is struck and 
correctly named by the child; (2) 
tester and child pause briefly; (3) an- 
other note is struck and identified. 
When 10 different notes are played 
and all the answers are correct, the 
proof is positive — Junior has abso- 
lute pitch. 

Later, combinations of notes can 
be tried — first, simple intervals, then 
major and minor chords. But sharp 
dissonances should not be put to the 
test until the child's abilities have 
been developed by training. 

Warning: Though most child prod- 
igies start with absolute pitch, only a 
very few grow up to be master 
musicians or to win undying fame 
As Slonimsky puts it: "Second 
violin sections of the world's or 
chestras are full of bald, bespec 
tacled men who, half a century 
before, wore velvet pants and 
dazzled their families with their 
playing." Besides, Junior just 
might do better pitching for the 
Little Lfv')(.nic. 

Have You Heard . . . what's happening 
(baby) after the discotheque? It's not 
a nightclub, but a NOW club. Based 
on the obvious fact that ear-splitting 
rock-'n'-roll noise and wall-to-wall 
Watusi action are no longer enough, 
the NOW club is an attempt to reach 
the modem swinger's ideal: a "total 
experience" center for those who 
really need all their senses violently 
assaulted at once. 

New York (where else?) already 
has two operating NOW clubs: Mur- 
ray The K's World and Cheetah. The 
first — mostly for kids— leans heavily 
on simultaneous bombardment of the 
eyes and ears (lots of flashing colored 
lights and weird movie images to go 
with the deafening mood music). 
Hardly any sitting down is allowed. 
Cheetah, co-owned by Olivier Co- 
quelin ("father" of the discotheque 
movement) and Borden Steven 
son (Adlai's little boy), bars ao 
holds at all. There are three 
floors' worth of divertisse- 
ments for a-capacity crowd 
of 2,000 thrill-seekers.The 
main floor is for danc- 
irig — three bands rotat- 
ing on a stage that's built 
into the dance floor. And 
for show-offs, three spe- 
cial raised platforms to 
Monkey around on. And 
lights? They've got 3,000 col 
ored bulbs, electronically con- 
trolled to change color to the music. 

Now, downst'airs is for sitting-this- 
one-out-a-go-go. There are lounges 
for color TV, Scopitone and a library 
stocked with foreign magazines. Up- 
stairs, nonstop movies, old, new, un- 
derground, or whatever. Drinks, 
snacks, buffet hot-dog carts, and a 
boutique where a Swedish fashion 
model sells way-out "space age" mer- 
chandise from 9 P.M. to 4 a.m. seven 
nights a week. If you're still "with 
it" after a night at Cheetah, you're a 
Have Yoii Seen? It had to happen, 
and it has: Batman has invaded the 
nursery. It's a creeper . . . it's a 

crawler . . . it's Batbaby ! They knew 
you couldn't wait, so now they've got 
these simply adorable stretch cover- 
alls (batsizes 6 to 18 months) and 
teeny tiny Bat-toddlers suits. The Dy- 
namic Diapered Duo strikes again? 
Have' You Heard . . . the Story of the 
Princess and the poem that turned 
into a best-selling pop record? No 
witches, magic spells or fairy god- 
mothers—this once upon a time it 
really happened. The Princess is 
Japan's Michiko; the poem was one 
about a silk tree, which she wrote 
when she was a high-school student 
16 years ago. A young composer re- 
cently fell in love with the words, 
added Western-style ballad , music 
and a cute recording star, and abra- 
cadabra — or its Oriental equivalent. 
Every Japanese record company is 
now selling Silk Tree Lullaby. Prin- 
cess Michiko, mother 
of two small boys, 
is donating all' 
the royal royal- 
ties to help 
Have You 
Mastered ... 
■ a foreign 
% slanguage 
' lately? Proof 
positive that a 
phrase book can 
be fun— even if it is 
French — is Spoken Like 
a Frenchman by Arthur Train Jr. 
(Doubleday, $4.95) , which has almost 
as much Gallic flavor as a bowl of Les 
Halles onion soup at 5 a.m. , and ought 
to do you at least as much good. 

There are all sorts of useful idio- 
matic phrases — things to say when 
your car breaks down and you're 
hopping mad, nifty connoisseur-type 
comments to make about the wine 
at dinner, exclamations and mild 
expleitives for action situations (like 
when your child takes a tumble or a 
taxi driver curses at you). There's a 
section called Instant French (how 
to take any consonant, follow it with 
any vowel, say it twice and come up 
with a word that actually means 
something). And for real emergencies, 
there's Stopgap French — what to say 
when you can't think of anything to 
say, but don't know enough French 
to keep quiet. Eh bien? 
Have You Circled? July 5— for catch- 
ing the circus act that follows Red 
Skelton. It's Hippodrome, Skelton's 
summer replacement on CBS-TV. 
Premiere tonight. 

July 8 — for racing to Saratoga 
Springs, N.Y., where the first annual 
Saratoga Performing Arts Center 
stival opens tonight. The New 
^ork City Ballet will perform 31 
works in 21 July programs; in August 
the Philadelphia Orchestra gives 14 
performances. (They say it's Amer- 
ica's only music festival with a 
mineral-water setting.) 
July 20 — for sending yourself to 
Siberia. Twenty-Jour Hours in a Si- 
berian City, a fascinating NBC-TV 
documentary, sketches life in Irkutsk, 
as lived by six different kinds of 
Silx'rian Citizens. The jirogram is 
the first film ever made in Silieria by 
a Western TV crew. 




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A Column for Mothers Only 

The greatest child-care experts in the world are mothers, because they 
alone know the special joys and daily headaches of bringing up children. 
To tap this natural source of experience, we asked our readers to share 
with each other their best solutions to the everyday problems of living 
with children. 

MIRROR MAGIC: If you're having trouble get- 
ting Junior to brush his teeth, hang a small 
mirror at eye level for him near the sink. 
He's more likely to brush if he can see what 
he's doing. If you don't believe it makes 
a difference, try brushing your teeth without 
looking!— Mrs. M. Coonse, Houston, Tex. 


child to set the table, 
draw the outline of a 
place mat with plate, silver, and napkin 
on a piece of paper. The child uses the 
mat as a guide to set each place. From 
one place setting, he advances to a large 
plastic tablecloth with an 
entire table setting drawn 
in, including salt, pepper, butter and glasses.— 
Mrs. D. Wiken, Lakewood, Ohio. 

STICKY GUM UNSTUCK: When chewing gum is 
stuck in the child's hair, work in a dab of peanut 
butter, then wipe with a cloth. The gum comes 
off, too.— Mrs. W. Garrison, Pennsauken, N.J. 


Children are early risers. Mothers 
happy about this, so on week- 
holidays I tell mine that what 
they wake me in the morning 
they'll go to bed that night! 
they wake me at six, into 
go at six that evening, 
game to them, and keeps 

are not so 
ends and 
ever time 
is the time 
Thus, if 
bed they 
It's a 

happy and rested.- Mrs. P. Lauzon, Pittsfield, Mass. 

SOCK SAVER: One frustrating problem facing 
mothers is a basket of odd socks. A solution is to 
have children pin dirty socks together. Then 
wash, dry and put them in the drawer still pinned 
together. When the children take a clean pair out 
of the drawer, the pin is all ready for the dirty pair. 
A tedious job of pairing matching socks is abol- 
ished.— Mrs. P. Lane, Long Beach, N.Y. 

HOME RUN: To entice your Little Leaguer to eat his meat, divide 
the serving into four portions — first base, second, 
third and home plate. He can pass a base 
only by eating that portion of meat, and he 
will want to make a home run. — Mrs. E. D. 
Lambert, Odessa, Tex. 

MAIL CALL: When I get the mail each day, my 
young son also wants his mail; so I save all ad 
vertisements, and each day give one to him. 

Since many are filled 
with colored pictures, 
he finds his mail much 
more interesting than I do mine.— Mrs. 
R. F. Hibbard, Webster, N.Y. 

SALAD SURPRISE: For a Child not inter- 
ested in eating a tossed green salad, a hand- 
ful of peanuts scattered over 
the greens works wonders. — 
Mrs. F. E. Bond, Davis, Calif. 

FACE ON YOUR EGG: To entice my preschoolers 
to eat hard-boiled eggs, I draw faces on the 
outer shell with a ballpoint pen and red pencil. 
The children love to choose a face for their 
meal.— Mrs. A. L. Gilman, Peekskill, N.Y. 

How do you solve your problems in bringing up children ? The Journal 
pays $25 to the first contributor of each item published. Advice of god- 
mothers and baby-sitters, as well as mothers, is entirely welcome! 
Please address your solutions to Mary A. Sykes, do Ladies' Home 
Journal, Rm. 12, 6!tl Lexington Avenue, New Y'ork, N.Y. 10022. 

I got to thinking — 
why doesn't mom 

save all that folding! 

SAVE FOLDING TIME — folded to Stay 
that way. Quick and convenient, 
they're always ready-to-use. 

MORE ABSORBENT — weven-in center 
panel provides extra layers of soft, 
absorbent, thirsty cotton fabric, where 
it is most needed. 


THEY'RE NEW — iast word in time-sav- 
ing and convenience. Combine all the 
advantages of stretch and prefolded 
diapers in one! 


adjusting, smoother fitting, easier pin- 
ning, no folding needed. 


You'll find these — and other kinds of 
Curily diapers — at infants' departments and 
stores everywhere. 




for all kinds of convenience 

OPEN END, exclusive with Curity, is es- 
peciallydesigned for home laundering. 
Permits easier passage of cleansing 
soap and water, and allows freer cir- 
culation of drying air. 



Please send me: 

□ A Curity PREFOLDED Diaper for 35t enclosed. 

C A Curity PREFOLDED Stretch Diar er tor 35e 




P.O. 11207 — Dept. J76 Char; .--.:- No. Caroli:i3 29200 


2439. «lst: Dtarii 
Home Sirl, Tm Caat 
Catch Me. etc. 

2333. « House •! 
Lo«e, Wkile We're 
fount. 10 eiere" 

2214. Alboridi del 2340. Also: ik«tie, 
Sncioso. Ritual Fire Kathy's Sent. I Mi 
Dance, etc. a Rock, etc. 

2347. ". . . he plays 
like an 'anger. . ." 
Wash. Sunday Star 

23SS. Plus: On Tkc 
Street Where Tea 
Lire. Emily, etc. 

21t7. Back la My 
Arms. Ask Aay Cirl. 
12 ia all * 

2401. Plus: Sreea 
Hornet Maa 

From U.M.C.l.E, etc. 


HEW *SM mtt*AtlfOM:C 


Only The Lonely 
Running Scared 
I'm Hurtin' • Uptown 

234S. Also: Once 2407. Wkerc Am I 22S7. Also: Oetou 
Upon a Time. Don't Coini. Cost Se Bon. The First Thin 
Wait Too loot, etc. Testerdays. etc. E<'ry Morninf, et 

ton IMT r«r Tnu' 
rao caul SIMS 

1013. Also: Twelfth 227S. Also: Kansas 2402. Alsa: It Aia't 
of Never. No Lon. cjly Star. In Ike Me Bake, noomn Oa 
Come to Me. etc. * Saoaaertime. etc. Tke Wall. etc. 

2174. And I Lo>e 
Him. Who Can I Turn 
To. Softly. 9 more 

22E7."Stunning.with 2423. Robin. The Boy 
staggering articula- Wonder; The Joker 
tion.'-High Fidelity is Wild: etc. 

21S4. More hilarious 
reminiscences by 
this great comedian 

l^-l»l'l"1 MLB I 

1«9S. Also: Crying. 2396. Also: Do To* 2141. I'm A Fool To 11(«. Also: I Wanr 
I'm Hurtin-. Mama. La«e Me. Bits And Care. One Has My Be Lo<ed. Too t< 
Blue Angel, etc. Pieces, etc. « Name. 10 mere The Only One. tl 



ere the 

2283. Also: When irs 
All Oyer, Throngk 
The Doorway, ete. 

2BM. Usa: Bmv 
CaMa; ttL. 

2264. "Heartily rec- 
ommended. "-Amer- 
ican Record Guide 



2183. Also: People, 
A Married Man. Take 
The Moment, etc. 

2350. Also: Charming 2356. Alsa: Taa tfaa't 
Vienna. A Walk In Kaaw Mc. SatU Tray- 
Bavaria, etc. el Oa, last Date. etc. 

2410. Alsa: As I U«c 190S. Alsa: I Can't 
Ton, Dreaaiiaf Tkc Stop Looiag Taa. 

Bl tc Emily. 12 ia all 

Man. If I Had A Ham- 
mer, 10 more 



nssES fioorT UE 

ptus WcHv«lM«Sai« 



mo nouui 

i k:nks kingdom 

t Wc'i Respected Man 

Qwn cj Jenc5 and his 
. Orchestra 
V Th« "1fl" Crowd 
S ^ ' Wlwf s Nm 
^ 10 110*1 

^WHERE --^ 
0(0 OUR 
■ - - LOVE GO 


Blue Bayou Falling 

What^d I Say 
Mean Woman Blues 


239«. Also: MeMie 2166. Also: Have I 
D'Amour, Jamaica Told You Lately That 
Farewell, etc. I Love You, etc. 

and One Nights. Higk 
Spirits Polka, etc. 

2408. Also: Such k 
Shame, It'sAIIRighl. 
I Need You, etc. 

229S. Also: Blues 
In The Night. Attcr 

Hours, etc 

1787.Also:CoBwSee 1897. Also: Indian 
About Me. Your Kiss Wedding, Borne on 
of Fire, etc. 4: The Wind, Leah, etc.* 

2327. Also: Ciribir- 1 S30. Sreater tki 
kin. Sugar Blues, ever , winner af 
Mein Papa, etc. Academy Awards 


OF 1965 


Can I Turn To, etc. 

. Also: We'll 2335. Also: still I'm 
In The Sun- Sa. Here 'Tis. Re 
. 12 in all spectable. etc. 

o??f' c*'". o"."' 1645 Delightful per 2342 «lso; Only 2253 Well done and 
Roses For A Blue lormance ol Grole s love Can Break A full of good solid 
'■'"I'' soaring lone poem Heart. Mecca, etc laughs • S F Chron. 


now invites you to take 



I. First time on 
LP tor these 
e classics ! 

2409. Also: The Wild 
Mountain Thyme. 

2294 Also: Ain't 
That A Shame, Dom- 
ino Twist, etc. 

2249-2250. Two-Record Set (Counts As 
Two Selections.! I Wish You Love. Are 
Vou Sincere, Let It Be Me. 24 in all 


2296. Also: I Am On 
My Own, She's A Lov- 
ing Cirl, etc. * 

ome on in 
where the 
bargain is! 

. The Kintsinen 

iJ>--" in «IISO« 

^ •■ 



at*3 Also: Senor 
liues. Interlude, 
re Samba, etc 

1719. Alse: loniTAll 
Teian, Night Train, 
Fener, Meney, etc.* 


, Batikol 

^3?^ 9«i»ek 

IRrtli II Alaska 
nOEnD Pkis 9 im 

1057 Also: lohnnf 
Reb. Comanche. Jim 
Bridger, etc. 


1724. Also Raunchy, 
Tequila. RockAround 
The Clock, etc. 

Alt Hiitoile RaUrfi 


E. S. P. 


1*2 Cuatro Vidas. 
las Amor, Luna lu- 
era, 9 more 

1977 197« Two Record Set (Counts As 
Two Selections I The fabulous "li>c" 
peitormance, his first in 12 ftart! 

1\ig~\ TOP POP 


'l *i^t T« HMTmi I««4 


703. Also Bits And 
leces. A Hard Day s 
hlht. My Guy, etc 


2122. Louie. Louie; 
00 Poo Pah Doo. YWi 
Can't Sit Down: etc. 



Mi OfifiAjr tnalwMi 

TT,r:s.BiT- Can 

1035. "Most iavisk, 
beautiful musical: a 
triumphi" Kilgalica 

2270. The very best 
this group has pro- 
duced. -S.F.Chr en. 


NT V «T Mil 
«M iMi s* aw - M -«i 

1901. Also: Hurt. I 

Miss You So. Who's 
Sorry Now. 7 more 

2155 The Cirl From 
Ipanema, Samba 
Torto, 12 in all 

2251 Also Slop The 
Music. Blue Holiday, 
Big John, etc 

1115. Ebb Tide, The 
Breete and I. Sleepy 
Lagoon, 12 in all 

2289 Also: This Is 1 786. Also: Your Old 2282. Also: I Can't 1784. Also: Caravan. 
It, Guilty, I Guess Stand By.You Beat Me Stop Loving You, Bye St. Louis Blues, Fidg- 
I m Cra/y, etc. to The Punch, etc.* Bye Blues, etc. ety Feet, etc. 



He Toucheij Me 
Yesterday • lO mo»( 

Mr. Tambourine Man 

Original Soundtrack 
tuMlC<Hi*^ Recording 


2359 Also I Know A 
Place. A lover's Con- 
certo 8 more 

2120. All I Really 
Want To Do, It's N* 
Use, 10 more 

1037. "The most ad 
venturous musical 
ever made. "-Life 



Cjn 1 &(( A Witnttt : 

Teuie A Wonderful One 

fri4e and |«r 


2291. Also: This Is 
Love, Symphony. I'll 
Close My Eyes, etc- 


p Picture 
Sound Track 

Glenn Miller Time 1965 

Glenn Miller Orchestra 
fccted bf f>»i McKinl«r 
r*rring Bobbr Hjchetl 

2275. Also: Aching, I91S. Serenade in 1925. Also: Martha & 
Breaking Heart; Cup Blue, Elmer's Tune, The Vandellas, The 
of Loneliness; etc. At Last, 12 in all Miracles, etc. 


I THE aomo s laetTcsr 

imciiaArioiKi hitsi 



On Sundar • 



P/us — WatefTieJon Mari 
Summertime • Hello. Doll;! 

1735 Also: What Kind 1788. Also: One of 
of Fool Am I?, Just These Days, Taking 
Say I love Her, etc. My Time. etc. * 

1098. " Fierce impact 
and momentum.'" - 
N Y. World-Telegram 

1704. Featuring the 2231. Also: What Now 
title song sung by My Love, Have I The 
Shirley Bassey Right, Morgen, etc. 

2292. Also: My Kind 
of Town, Girl Talk, 
King of the Road, etc. 

2177. Also: She's A 
Fool. Look of Love, 
Hey Now. etc. 

2219 Also: Ballad of 
a Thin Man. Desola- 
tion Row, etc. 

2279. " Biting but 
brilliant comedy." 
- Billboard 

~M0r~2^M I M I Really Ji^M 


MOON OonlThioH^^^B 

1001. Tonight, love 2168. Also: Gi 
Is A Many-Splen- Don't Come Blowii 
dored Thing, 9 more in the Wind, etc. 


a go-go 


1012. Also: What Do 
I Care, Forty Shades 
of Green, etc. 

2170. Also: Louie, 
Louie; La Bamba; 
Whittier Blvd; etc. 

2058. Music directly 
from the sound tracks 
of 13 great movies 


2178 Bonita, She's 
A Carioca, Oindi, 
Surfboard, 8 more 

1782. Also: Summer 
Means Fun. Sidewalk 
Surfin". etc. 

2367-2368. Three Record Set (Counts As 
Two Selections.) " Lush quality synony- 
mous with Ormandy."~Am. Rec. Guide 

2028. Also: I'm Just 
A Country Boy, Battle 
of New Orleans, etc. 

1926. Also: Pepper- 
mint Twist - Joey 
Dee; etc. * 

1325 "Vilonderfully 
convincing." - High 

IT ALBUMS and you'll quickly understand why Columbia Is 
le world's largest record club! Here are more top albums, 
lore top stars and more great labels than are offered by any 
ther record club! Yes! Columbia offers you the biggest hits 
Id the biggest bargain, too . . . because if you join right now, 
3u may have ANY 9 of these hit albums - ALL 9 FREE! Whafs 
lore, we'll also send you a handy record rack as a free gift! 

RECEIVE YOUR 9 RECORDS FREE - simply write in the 
jmbers of the nine records you want on the postage-paid card 
'ovided. Then choose another record as your first selection, 
ir which you will be billed only $3.79 (regular high-fidelity) or 
4-79 (stereo). In short, you will actually receive ten records of 
jur choice — all 10 for the price of one! 

Be sure to indicate whether you want your ten records (and 
II future selections) in regular high-fidelity or stereo. Also in- 
icate the type of music in which you are mainly interested: 
lassical; Listening and Dancing; Broadway and Hollywood: 
ountry and Western: Teen Hits; Jazz. 

HOW THE CLUB OPERATES: Each month the Club's staff of 
music experts selects outstanding records from every field of 
music. These selections are fully described in the Club's enter- 
taining and informative music magazine, which is sent to you 
free each month. 

Each monthly Issue of the Club Magazine will contain over 
300 different records to choose from ... a wide selection to 
suit every musical taste. You may accept any of the records 
offered — from any field of music! 

The records you want are mailed and billed to you at the 
regular Club price of $3.79 (Classical $4.79; occasional Orig- 
inal Cast recordings and special albums somewhat higher), 
plus a small mailing and handling charge. Stereo records are 
$1.00 more. 

Your only membership obligation is to purchase a record a 
month during the coming nine months. Thereafter, you have 
no further obligation to buy any records from the Club, and 
you may discontinue membership at any time. If you continue, 
you need buy only four records a year to remain a member in 
good standing. 

MONEY-SAVING BONUS-RECORD PLAN! If you do wish to con- 
tinue membership after fulfilling your enrollment agreement, 
you will be eligible for the Club's bonus-record plan . . . which 
enables you to get the records you want for as little as $2.39 
each (plus a small mailing charge). So the Club represents 
your best buy in records for as long as you remain a member! 

SEND NO MONEY NOW - just mail the card to receive your 
9 records free and your free record rack! 

NOTE: Stereo records must be played only on a 
stereo record player. * Records marked with a star (:jc) 
have been electronically re-channeled for stereo. 

More than 1,500,000 families now be/ong 
to the world's largest record club 


Terre Haute, Indiana 47808 

® lOeeColumblaKcordCiub 205' F66 


Here at last is a really foolproof way to keep kids of 
all ages busy for long hours in car, train, or plane. 
You've never seen anything like P'lip for Fun* before: 
This compact box contains a fascinating 16-game 
assortment, including card games (without cards), dice 
games (without dice) and other games new and old. 
What's more, kids can play them all with their seat belts 
safely buckled. And there are no loose pieces to jounce 
or blow out of place, no sharp points to cause accidents, 
and absolutely no mess to gum up kids or car. Any 
number, from one child alone to the whole family, can 
play. Flip for Fun* was created for Ladies' Home Journal 
by Mary Scott Welch and the famous Parker 
Brothers, Inc. Mail in the coupon below and get ready 
to go places with cheery faces in the back seat. 
Flip for Fun * is guaranteed to improve your next trip 
or your money back. (Turn to page 105 for 
a complete listing of all 16 Flip for Fun* games.) 

It's all right here— everything you need la keep 
your children engaged for long hours of 
travel titne: 2 flipper trays {each one with 
movable flaps, lettered and numbered 
for different games) . . . 16 playing strips 
(for each game your youngster puts a different strip 
on top of the pile, in the convenient slot 
under the flaps) . . . 2 reusable scoreboards, 
with 2 wipe-off crayons . . . and complete 
instructions printed in type THIS BIG. Send in 
the coupon below and have a good trip. 

♦Parker Brothers trademark tor Its Automobile Travel Game Equipment. 

Fill out the coupon, enclosing 
personal check, or money or- 
der (no sfamp<, please; Ni«w 
Cork State re'.irJents plea'. ; nu 
•,;ilos tax. Sorry, we are unahil' 
\ij handle Canadian, forf;if;n or 
CCD. orderi,. Please allow ap 
proximate!/ three weeks for 
hzridling anrJ mailinp; 

New York, N Y. 1 0046 

Please send . 

. set(s) Flip for Fun* at $3 each. I enclose $- 

print name 

^int address 




Happy idea! 

Get a new Philco refrigerator and 
forget defrosting forever! 

Wouldn't it be wonderful? No more precious time wasted 
defrosting your refrigerator. No more defrosting 
mess to clean up. Just let Philco's No Frost system do the 
whole job for you - automatically. 

And Philco gives you more room for food. The 
refrigerator in the picture gives you a huge 16.2 cubic 
feet of storage. But it takes up just 30 inches of kitchen 
wall space. It has Philco's new automatic ice maker, too! 

What else? This year Philco introduces new decorator 
models with paneled doors finished to match walnut, 
maple or birch. And Philco's exclusive Power Saver to 
save you money on electric bills. And reserve power of 
Philco Instant Cold to keep your family's food fresh longer. 

Isn't this exactly what you want in a refrigerator? 
Come on, get happy ! See your nearest Philco dealer. 





Meet the New Pandoras, an all-girl 
rock- 'n' -roll group with a difference — 
the difference being that they are about 
as non-show biz (in the usual sense of 
the tenn) as you can get. Pretty, 
scrubbed-looking, the girls usually step 
on-stage in sweaters, skirts, white Cour- 
reges boots. And then out comes one of 
the purest, hard-driving rock sounds 
yet. All from the Boston area, the Pan- 
doras are, from left, above: Elyse 
Thierry, 18, who plays bass guitar, 
paints and draws in her free moments 

("I suppose that makes me the arty one 
of the group"); Kathy Kinsella, 21, 
rhythm guitarist, a graduate of Sim- 
mons College, who managed to main- 
tain her Dean's List average and woi'k 
with the group; Nanci DiMuro, 18, who 
plays drums, and, when the girls are 
traveling, likes to cook for the other 
Pandoras; Michelle Marquis, 18, lead 
guitarist and the out- 
door girl of the group 
(she especially loves 
to play golf). 


Just for fun — why not make a crazy, wide tie for the young man in 
your life. (Make a matching tie for yourself, too, to wear with 
blouses, shirts.) Use one of your father's discarded ties as a guide. 
First, slit the back seam and open tie flat on a sheet of tracing 
paper. Then, trace outline of tie, widening it gradually, beginning 
15 in. from tie's widest end. If your father's tie measures 2 in. 
at widest point, and you want a 5-in.-wide tie (the width currently 
favored by young Londoners), add 1^4 in. to both sides. Now, 
following this tracing-paper pattern, cut fabric (try a wild cotton 
print — you needn't line it), finish the edges, fold (for how it's 
done, see a finished tie), press, overlap and slip-stitch back seam. 


Definitely the biggest fun fad of the season: the 
decorated knee (it had to happen, what with 
skirts going up and up, and legs becoming a 
brand-new beauty-fashion focal point). So 
why not give a knee-painting party the 
way they do out West, with standard re 
freshments, dancing— and, of course, a 
knee-decorating contest as the high- 
light of the evening. Tell the boys to 
wear jams or Bermudas so they can 
get in on the act, too. The decorating 
is done with eye makeup, so have 
lots of it handy, in the brightest 
colors you can find (or ask guests to 
bring their own;. Prizes go to the 
most artistic knees, most imagina- 
tive knees, etc. Or take eye 
makeujj to the beach, non- 
chalantly paint fxjsies on 
your knees right tlx rf; ^ 
on the sand ^and wat< l 
the crowd gather; . V\ 
naily, if you think you 
c an carry it off, wear a bracelet 
f^the exjjandable kind } just, above 
one knee the next time you g(j dan< i 

Photogrcph* by Adam RKchla; drawlnci b/ Ann* Marl* Bardnn 


The pants look 
they love at 
BiRi, New York 

'Teen City." Baltimore 



It wasn't too very long 
ago (as recently as five 
or six years ago, in 
fact) when teen-agers 
really didn't count for 
much in the scheme of 
things. But the scheme 
has changed, and now, 
with the emphasis on 
youth, the world is 
pretty much your oys- 
ter. In Denver, they're 
talking about construc- 
tion of a whole teen "country 
club," with shops, facilities 
for swimming, skating, danc- 
ing, movies, tennis, to be 
called, appropriately enough, 
has its Mod Center Club, sponsored by a leading depart- 
ment store. In fact, almost every major department 
store is giving preferential treatment to young people. 
Especially where fashion is concerned. Take Bigi, in New 
York, for example. It's a special, new-this-year depart- 
ment within the venerable old Bergdorf Goodman's 
Bigi (the name of the department, and the name of their 
lively, with-it, under-20 prototype customer) is deco- 
rated all in cool-looking contemporary black and white, 
right down to the dressing rooms. Bigi, like most of the 
other special young shops in department stores across 
the country, is wired for sound. (It's not unusual to see 
customers doing the boogaloo as they look through a rack 
of dresses.) Salesgirls in these new departments are al- 
most always young and pretty, and many of them are 
training for careers in retailing. (If a retailing career ap- 
peals to you, it might be a good idea to investigate the 
job opportunities in one of these special shops — there's 
no better way to gain experience, or to find out whether 
you're really suited to the excitement, the hectic pace, 
the long hours that go with a retailing career. ) Clothes, 
of course, are what the whole young-department boom 
is all about — and probably you'll love everything you 
see. Because all of it — happy days ! — is especially for you. 

A monthly report from, by and for tho 
younger Journal tot. by MARGARET KADISON 

Know how many nail colors you can get 
with any polish you have and 
Clairors new 'tinted topcoats?... 





or so. Just use your imagination. 

Andnew'tinted topcoats' by Clairol. 

The instant-tint nail color kit 
that lets you change your 
nail color as quickly as 
you change your clothes, r 
Or your mood. 
Or your mind. 

tinted \ 

( nail calaring* I 

...for zilUona of iieic nail colors 

© Cloirol Int. 1964 "TM 

Now — instantly— you can make any nail polish match or harmonize v 

with every costume chanee! Your polish is pini<, and you want to vs , ar an 

orange dress? Add a yellow 'tinted topcoat' and make orange happen, righi on 

your noilsl Feeling pastel, but your nails are bare? Slip on a fast 

'tinted topcoat' lor two or threel over our White Base Coat 

There are four zillion quick-switch fashion tricks you con playl The kit 2.00. 

For intimate 
marriage problems 
tiny Norforms 
assures easier protection 
than internal bathing 

Guards against germs and odors -effective for hours 

Tiny Norforms® is the modern feminine 
suppository that makes douching old-fash- 
ioned and unnecessary. Internal bathing 
just cannot give you the convenience, i)lus 
the gcnaicidal and deodorant protection, 
of Xorfonii.s. 

Each Norforms is tiny as your fingertip. 
Yet it's amazinglj' effective against germs 
and odors. At contact with the body, Nor- 
forms starts to form a powerful antiseptic 
film that protects delicate tissues as it 
eliminates odor-causing germs. And this 
protection lasts for hours. 

Tested by Doctors 

Doc-tors have found Norforms' deodorant 

protection outstandingly effective. You 

stay free from embarrassing odor. Nor- 
forms has been proved safe, too — won't 
irritate sensitive tissues. 

No Measuring, No Mixing, 
No Apparatus 

And — unlike awkward internal bathing — 
dainty Norforms is the easiest method of 
protection. Simply insert a tiny Norforms 
. . . and feel fresh, feminine, so secure . No 
bother, no mess, no doubt ! 
Norforms is at your drug 
counter now. 
Want more details about 
Norforms? Just mail cou- 
pon foi' an informative 



Mail this coupon to : 

The Norwich Pliarinaral Company 

Dept. Ul-07, Norwich. N.Y. ISHir, 

Pl/'ane send my free Nor/orms booklet in a plain 

City — 




On site here, our fash- 
icn plum-of-the-month 
for July: a sweater- 
dress, freshly picked in a wonderfully rich, heather-y plum color (a 
color, by the way, that's sure to be one of this fall's favorites), with its 
own self-belt (which we show here threaded through the links of a 
"gold" chain). For back to school, wear the dress short, with knee 
socks, low-heel baby shoes. Or, for a smashingly contemporary city 
look, wear it with textured stockings to the office. By Bobbie Brooks, 
5-15, $18. Orion Adier knee socks, Capezio shoes. Hairdo by Raymond 
Costantini. Dress available at the following stores: 

The M. O'Neil Co., Akron, Ohio; Hess's Allentown, Pa ; Stewart & Co , Baltimore; 
Jordar) Marsh Co., Bostor); McAlpin Co., Cincinnati; The May Co., Cleveland; The F. 
& R. Lazarus & Co., Columbus, Ohio; The Rike Kumler Co., Dayton, Ohio; Oreck's, 
Duluth, Minn.; Black's, Fargo, N. Dak.; Gertz, Long Island; The May Co., Los Angeles; 
George E. Brett Co., Mankato, Minn.; Burdine's, Miami; Powers Dry Goods Co., Min- 
neapolis; Bamberger's, Newark, N.J.; Stern's, New York; Strawbridge & Clothier, 
Philadelphia; Diamond's, Phoenix; Joseph Home Co., Pittsburgh; Joske's, San An- 
tonio; Stix, Baer & Fuller, St. Louis; Best Apparel, Seattle; Meyer & Frank, Seattle; 
Best Apparel, Tacoma; Joseph R. Harris. Washington, D.C 

PtioloKfrtljIi by Mclvin SokoKky 


name dropper 

Socially acceptable anywhere-Lady Scott's new decorator dispenser. It sheds its outside wrap to displov [c j ■ 
Scott facial tissue beautif jliy In Bluebell Blue, Camellia Pink, Fern Green, or Antique Gold. From the firsf coiiection 
of tissue prints. Shaded blossoms, also gay prints on tints. All in matching 2-ply facial tissue and bathroom Tissue. 



Hot? Sip into something 
cool— Nestea, a nice habit to pick 
up when you want to simmer down. 

Nestea is 100% tea, and a whole 
pitcher costs a pittance. If you stir up 
one this afternoon, it'll go big with 
your men come sundown. 

Table for Two 




America's favorite mustard spreads pleasure w'" ^rever it 
goes. It's got the taste everybody loves. Aren't you glad 
that French's now comes in the thrifty family size, too? 

The taste America lows best! 


Every month Peggy was dismal because 
of functional menstrual distress. Now 
she just takes Midol and goes her way in 
comfort because Midol tablets contam 

• An exclusive anti-spasmodic that 
helps Stop Cramping . 

• IVledically approved ingredients that 
Relieve Headache. Low Backache . . . 
Calm Jumpy Nerves . . . 

• A special, mood -brightening medi- 
cation that Chases "Blues." 

FREE! Frank, reveoling 32-poge book explolns 
menslruation. Send \0t fo cover cost of moil 
Ing and hondling to Dept. Y-76, Box 146, New 
York. N.Y. 10016. ISent in plain wropperl 

Beautician's Tip 

Q: What percentage should a beau- 
t'cian receive as a tip in a large 
beauty salon? Should it be placed on 
the dressing table, given to the re- 
ceptionist, or placed directly in the 
hand of the beauty operator? 

A: In a beauty parlor where a sham- 
poo, set and manicure come to $6 it 
is usual to give the person who has 
set your hair a dollar, the manicurist 
50 cents, the shampoo girl a quarter. 
If there is a maid who has served 
you, she gets a quarter too. In a 
salon in which the price range is far 
lower than this, gear your tips ac- 
cordingly. In salons where the owner 
is your operator, the custom has 
always been not to tip him— but, un- 
fortunately, this seems to be chang- 
ing. When in doubt, ask at the desk 
whether one tips "Mr. John." You 
may leave the tip with the reception- 
ist, or hand it directly to the person 
who has served you. Don't leave it 
on the dressing table unless you 
specifically call it to the operator's 


Q: If you have ordered salad as a 
main course, do you eat it directly 
from the bowl or do you set the bowl 
to one side, spoon the salad onto 
your plate, and eat it from the plate? 

A: It is usual to serve yourself from 
the bowl, but if the portion is small 
it is perfectly acceptable to put the 
bowl on the service plate and eat 
from the bowl. 

Twenty-Fifth Anniversary 

Q: My parents are soon going to 
celebrate their 25th wedding anni- 
versary, and I would like to give 
them some thoughtful gift (under 
$10). Do you have any suggestions? 
I am a 13-year-old boy. 

A: I think flowers would be the best 
idea for you. Have a talk with a 
florist and see whether, at the time 
of the anniversary, a beautiful laven- 
der-gray rose called Sterling Silver 
will be available. If not, have him 
select some other white or ofT-white 
rose. If you are able to order Sterling 
Silver, be sure to tell your parents 
the name, since it is so appropriate 
for a Silver Anniversary. 

Supermarket Conversation 

Q: A few weeks ago an ac(|uainlance 
of mine harl to get married. I hadn't 
seen her since then until torlay, wiien 
I met her in the suiM'rmarkel. With- 
oul thinking, I said. "Hi. How's 
marricfl jiff!?" She replied that it was 
fine. Tlien I sairl, "Omgralulalions. 

I think it's wonderful." As I walked 
away I had the feeling that I had 
somehow embarrassed her. What 
should I have said? 

A: Perhaps your question was a little 
personal for airing in the super- 
market, unless you spoke very 
softly. Brides sometimes like to pre- 
tend that they are not so newly mar- 
ried. It might have been better to 
have said, "How are you and Tom?" 
Also, you should never use the word 
"congratulations" when speaking 
only to the girl. Couples are con- 
gratulated, but to the girl you say, 
"Felicitations." This is a minor point 
of etiquette, but congratulating a 
girl sounds as though it had been nip 
and tuck as to whether she would be 
able to snare a husband. 

Offering Help 

Q: I have been going steady with a 
boy for a year, and occasionally he 
invites me for dinner. After dinner I 
feel that I should help his mother 
with the dishes, but she always says, 
"No, that's all right," even when I 
repeat that I would gladly help. 
Should I keep insisting? 

A: There is nothing much you can 
do if the boy's mother refuses help. 
However, I hope mothers of teen-age 
boys who read this column will 
realize that it is courteous for a 
young girl to offer help under these 
circumstances. If possible, she should 
be given something to do if she 
seems willing and eager, and if help 
can be used. Giving a hand like this 
can bolster a girl's ego and bring her 
closer to both the boy and his 

Children and Telephones 

Q: Can you give me the proper form 
for children to use in answering the 
telephone so that the caller will know 
he has reached the correct number? 

A: Children do not answer, "Mrs. 
Clark's residence," as a servant 
would. In fact, no member of the 
family should do this. (And note 
that it is always "Mrs. Clark's resi- 
dence," as the wife is the family 
hostess. ) A child or other member of 
the family answers with "Hello." 
Then, when the caller reveals his 
identity, the child may identify him- 
self, or simply call the i^erson wanted 
to the phone. Children should be 
warned not to give out too much in- 
formation over the telejihone unless 
they are perfectly sure it is all right 
to do so. I f ver^- young ciiildren must 
pick u[) the ])hone. they should be 
taught to say, "Just a minute, 
please," and then they should bring 
an adult to the jihone. 

Secretary's Manners 

Q: Should a secretary rise from her 
desk when spoken to at some length 
by her employer? 

A: No, she shouldn't. 

Picking Up the Napkin 

Q: Siiould one remove llic lahic 
na|)kiii to one's la]) imiiicdialcly 
after being sealed, or should one wait 
until grace has been said? 

A: Do not touch the napkjn untili 
your hostess takes up hers. Some-I 
times, if grace is said, it is said with 
everyone standing, sometimes it is 
said while seated. Watch the hostess 
and you will know wiiat is expected] 
of you. I 

House Guest's Behavior 

Q: Recently I visited my sister for a 
few weeks at her home in Connecti- 
cut. One evening she had guests, 
colleagues of her husband, whom I 
did not know. After we were intro- 
duced and I exchanged a few words 
with them, I withdrew to my room. 
Was I being impolite or antisocial? 

A: You were being considerate, if 
you felt it was more or less a "busi- 
ness" evening. Do, however, make 
some excuse under such circum- 
stances. The usual one is, "I wonder 
if I may be excused. I have some 
letters to write." 

Notes of Sympathy 

Q: When the beloved parent of a 
friend dies, is the note of sympathy 
addressed to the friend alone, or 
should it be addressed to her husband 
and children as well ? 

A: You write to the friend, and in 

your note you can express your sym- 
pathy to her husband and children, 
perhaps in a sentence such as: "Please 
extend my sympathy to John and 
the children." 

Expressing Sympathy 

Q: Is it correct for me to sign "Mr. 
and Mrs. Paul Smith" on the register 
at a funeral home when I stop by to 
extend my sympathy and that of my 
wife — even though my wife is not 
actually with me at the time? 

A: Yes. Similarly, the wife may 
make the call in the name of her 
husband and herself, signing the 
register in the same way. 

Miss Vondcrhilt wdioiHcs ques- 
tions f row readers, to he answered 
in this column as space permits. 

A new Imoklet by Amy Vanderbilt, 
"Teen Manners." is now available to 
Journal readers. Other booklets are: 
" lin^a^emenl and Wedding Eti- 
quette." "Table Manners" and "Office 
I'Jiqiiette." Send 25c in coin for each 
l)oohlet ordered to Miss Amy Vander- 
bilt. liox II.').'). Weston. Conn. 


One's a bargain 

two's a steal 

An extension phone doubles your telephone convenience but adds only pennies 
a day to the cost. Two phones let you cover two floors, or each end of the house, 
or two busy locations like the kitchen and the master bedroom, 
and save you steps and minutes every day. 

Start enjoying two phones soon for just a little more than the cost of one. 
To order, call our Business Office or ask your telephone man. 

Bell System 

American Telephone & Telegraph 
and Associated Companies 


Q: My wife and I are planning to take a 
three-week cruise during which we'll live 
aboard the ship the entire time. What are 
the rules for tipping on a cmise? 
A: One common method of tipping on cruises 
is to set aside an amount equal to 10 percent 
of your total fare. Give 40 percent of this 
sum to your cabin steward or stewardess and 
another 40 percent to your dining-room 
waiter. Divide the remainder among others- 
such as the chief steward, headwaiter, deck 
steward or bath steward— who have per- 
formed some special service for you. If the 
dining-room headwaiter, for example, has 
arranged a special dinner for you, tip him 
a few dollars. 

Note; Cabin stewards and dining-room 
waiters prefer to be tipped a portion of the 
amount you allot for each at the end of each 
week of the cruise— rather than the entire 
amount at the end. 

Q: We're in a quandary about how much life 
insurance we should have. My husband is 35 
years old, and his income is $10,000 a year. 
I'm 33, and our children are aged eight and 
10. We now have $20,000 worth of life insur- 
ance in a combination of a group policy and 
an individual policy with a $100-a-month 
family income rider. Is this adequate? 
A: It's just about average for a family of 
your ages and income. But as to the adequacy 
of your coverage, consider these facts: Your 
present policies would provide you, in the 
event of your husband's death, with less than 
one third of his present income. If you qualify 
for today's maximum Social Security survivor 
benefits ($315 a month), they would boost 
this income to about three quarters of your 
present family income. But to achieve these 
income levels, all benefits are cut off when the 
youngest child finishes school. 

Life-insurance experts recommend policies 
with a total value equal to four or five times 
the family breadwinner's annual income— 
not only to maintain the family's standard of 
living but also to help cover the anticipated 
high costs of educating the children. Unless 
you have substantial savings above and be- 
yond your present life-insurance policies, you 
should discuss immediately with your insur- 
ance agent the costs of more realistic coverage. 

Q: I keep hearing that our dollar's value is 
dwindling seriously. How does today's situa- 
tion compare to the rampant inflation follow- 
ing World War II? 

A: The cost-of-living rise we're now experi- 
encing just isn't comparable to that of the 
early post- World War II period. For example, 
in 1946 alone, consumer prices rose a gigantic 
18 percent. In each of the Korean War years 
of 1950 and 1951, the Government's Con- 
sumer Price Index— our measure of cost-of- 
living changes— climbed nearly 6 percent. 

There's no disputing that an average rise 
of lYi, to 3 percent in the cost of consumer 
goods and services this year would be serious. 
But obviously this rate of erosion in the 
dollar's buying power would not reflect "ram- 
pant inflation." 

Q: I just read that Americans nf)W have $1 
billion wc;rth of life insurancr; in force. I can 
just b;)re]y grasp the m(;aning of $1 million 
fenough to buy unx family a very fancy new 
home, a couple of elegant limousines, a yacht, 


ermine coats and diamond necklaces for the 
ladies) ; but how are we supposed to swallow 
sums in the trillions? 

A: Ifyou stacked a trillion (1,000,000,000,000) 
one-dollar bills on top of each other, the stack 
would rise a third of the way to the moon. 
If you laid these bills end to end, they'd 
reach to the sun and beyond. If you divided 
$1 trillion equally among every American, 
the sum would buy each family a $20,000 
home, or each citizen under 35 a college edu- 
cation, or a round-the-world trip for every 
man, woman and child. 

Note: You'd better start studying up on 
"trillions," because not just life insurance 
but also our personal savings, our debt-free 
assets and the total of our public and private 
debts are over the magic trillion-dollar line. 
And this year, our Gross National Product— 
the total value of all the goods and services we 
produce— is actually soaring toward the 
three-quarter-trillion-dollar range. 

Q: My husband has been out of a job for 
nearly six months as the result of a merger 
of his former company, and he's now consid- 
ering paying several hundred dollars to an 
"executive counselor" who says he can guar- 
antee my husband a new job at three times 
his previous salary. Is this offer on the level ? 
A: Probably not— if a new job and a multi- 
plied salary are "guaranteed.'' No legitimate 
executive search firm will guarantee a posi- 
tion for a client. Moreover, the legitimate 
executive search firm works for— and usu- 
ally collects fees from— the company seeking 
the executive rather than the executive 
seeking the company. Your husband's best 
bet would be to stick to licensed employment 
agencies and executive counseling firms that 
do not guarantee jobs or make specific prom- 
ises on salaries. 

Q: Every time I go into a supermarket I get 
dizzy over the level of food prices. What fi- 
nancial advice on food can you offer? 
A: Obvious rules this summer are to shop for 
specials and build your menus around them. 
If you have a freezer, load up especially on 
bargain-priced meats when they are avail- 
able—and freeze them. Stick to seasonal bar- 
gains in fruits and vegetables— and avoid 
out-of-season products. 

Buy package sizes to suit your family size 
awd needs: The "large, econciiny" versions 
won't be econ(;mical if you have to throw out 

By Sylvia Porter 

leftovers. Buy cereals and bread not by size 
but by weight and food value: look for nutri- 
ents in bread, for example, rather than a big 
volume. In meats, try to figure nutrient 
value you get per dollar spent. A day's worth 
of protein costs less than half as much if you 
buy it in the form of hamburger than if you 
buy it in the form of pork chops. Other big 
"nutrient bargains" available today are liver, 
eggs and fish. 

If you follow these simple guides, your 
savings could easily run to one third or more 
of your total summer food bill. 

Q: I want to give my wife a small diamond 
pin for her birthday, and I'm wondering if 
the diamonds you see advertised at "drasti- 
cally reduced prices" are really bargains. 
A: They aren't, even if the shop is going out 
of business. Any diamond retailer can easily 
get the full, actual value of his wares from a 
wholesaler, and he need not cut prices to you. 
The basic buying rule is to deal only with 
a known, respected jeweler. 

Q: Now that the interest rate on U.S. Savings 
E Bonds has been raised to 4.15 percent, 
we're thinking about investing a major por- 
tion of our savings in these bonds. But even 
this rate of return is well below the rate we 
could get on a special savings account at the 
bank around the corner. Should we buy the 
E bonds? 

A: Not if you're saving for only a short period. 
Your E bond will pay you only 3.02 percent 
if you hold it a year, only*3.5 percent if you 
hold it two years. Many financial institutions 
will pay you much more than these rates on 
savings you deposit for these periods. 

But if yours is a long-range plan, you'll 
find significant advantages in buying E bonds. 
The 4.15 percent return is guaranteed if you 
hold the bonds to maturity in seven years— 
and this is an historically high interest rate 
for modem times. Other savings rates may be 
reduced in the next seven years. 

You can postpone paying Federal income 
tax on the accumulated interest you earn on 
E bonds until you actually cash in the securi- 
ties, and E bonds are exempt from state and 
local income taxes, too. This is a major "plus" 
if you're plan- 
ning to redeem 
your bonds at 
regular inter- 
vals when you 
retire and prob- 
ably move into 
a lower tax 

The most im- 
portant advan- 
tage as I see 
it is that you 
can arrange 
to buy the 
bonds via auto- 
matic deduc- 
tions from your 

paycheck each week, and thus you can dis- 
cipline yourself into saving regularly. These 
"forced savings" each week will add up to 
big totals over a period. 

Miss Porter welcomes questions from readers. 
Those of general interest will he answered in 
this column as space permits. 





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rilA08<MAIIK 9 



The freezer: every woman's 

creative storehouse 

Home Management Editor 

It's obvious that the freezer is every busy wom- 
an's best friend, allowing her to tamper with time, 
giving her the freedom to cook when it's con- 
venient, or not to when it isn't. It's the freezer 
that makes it possible for her to pick her shop- 
ping days, squirrel away a month's worth of 
staples, then forget about big supermarket excur- 
sions for a while. IVobably most satisfying of all 
for any woman who thoroughly enjoys cwking 
is the opportunity the freezer gives her to take 
the time, when she has it, to make favorite 
gourmet dishes and have them ready to serve 
with practically no notice. The Journal'H staff 
members, many of Whom lead triple-busy lives 
involving fiusbands, (hildren, jobs— w^metimes 

even two homes — would find it difficult indeed 
to maintain their busy schedules without their 
freezers. And since entertaining, both for pleasure 
and for business, is a vital part of all our lives, 
many of us have evolved favorite freezer dishes 
that can be served up on reasonably short notice. 
Managing Editor Bruce Gierke has several mar- 
velous ways with chicken breasts, all starting 
with the same jireamble preparation. She fixes 
about a dozen at a time, splitting, trimming out 
bones, then f)ounding between layers of waxed 
})a|>cr until they're thin. She then stacks tlx? 
breasts with double thicknesses of plastic wrap 
between layers, wrai)8 meal-size quantities in 
foil and freezes, ('hicken is then {coniinvcd) 


Both washed in the same detergent. Only the bleach was different 

*Du Font's registered trademark for its TFE non-stick finish 

Got Teflon? Get Tuff y! 

(Cleans without scratching) 

Tuffy is safe. So safe it's approved by the maker of Teflon. 
Won't scratch, scar or mar Teflon coated cookware. And Tuffy 
keeps Teflon as non-stick as new. Removes food film. Stops 
grease build-up. Helps prevent stains. Get Tuffy for Teflon. 
Tuffy* Plastic Mesh Ball won't scratch Teflon, dishes or hands 


Accountants wife 
praises easy 

Mrs. William Sovine of Nashville, Ten- 
nessee, writes. "Kimberley Ann never 
fusses or frets about finishing her bottle 
Feeding time is easy with Evenflo. " 

Only Evenflo has the exclusive Twin 
Air Valve Sure Seal Nipple that elimi- 
nates excess air swallowing, makes for- 
mula flow smoothly and prevents leak- 
age and nipple pullout. 

Because it's easier to nurse, handier to 
use, more mothers use Evenflo than u 
all other nursers combined . . . accord- 
ing to independent surveys. 

Complete Nursers, r« , ' 

mothers know 


I^AvmilA OHIO 

THE FREEZER continued 

ready to be made into one of the follow- 
ing specialties: Chicken Kiev is made 
by rolling each piece of chicken around a 
finger of chilled butter flavored with 
a squirt of lemon, a little garlic and fresh 
chopped herbs — whatever's on hand. 
With sides tucked in neatly and pinned 
with toothpicks, chicken is dipped in an 
egg-cream mixture and rolled in bread 
crumbs. Chicken then goes into refrig- 
erator for that evening's dinner (or 
freezer to cook later in the week), to wait 
for frying in butter. To make Chicken 
Rollups, Bruce covers thawed chicken 
with thin slices of cheese and prosciutto, 
then rolls and pins with toothpicks. 
After dredging with a mixture of flour 
and freshly ground Parmesan cheese, 
plus salt and pepper, these, too, are 
placed in refrigerator or freezer until 45 
minutes before serving, when they are 
fried. Chicken Fillets make one of the 
fastest and simplest meals of all, using 
chicken breasts. Bruce says, "When I'm 
on a diet, I frequently eat them plain, 
cooked with a teensy bit of butter and 

Poppy Cannon, our Food Editor, is a 
devotee of cubist cooking. "I make all 
kinds of stock from dibs, dabs, scraps, 
bones, shells of seafood, mushroom peel- 
ings, etc., and freeze in ice trays. When 
possible, I make stock in a pressure 
cooker, for that way so little water is 
needed and the stock is concentrated 
without a long cooking-down process." 
The next day, she scrapes off any fat and 
puts the frozen cubes in plastic bags. 
This stock, doled out by the cube, is used 
for sauces, soups, for cooking vegetables, 
and to add to main dishes. Curry 
Sauce is another food Poppy freezes in 
cubes for easy measuring and rapid 
thawing. Curry sauce from the freezer 
lifts leftover beef, lamb or poultry into 
the realm of the first edition. Or, used 
with shrimp, lobster or a combination of 
seafoods, it makes a marvelous main 
dish. This time of year, try combining 
the sauce with chicken broth for a de- 
licious cold soup. For a good basic curry 
sauce, it takes a lot of cooking to achieve 
a smooth, full-flavored result, so prepare 
a generous amount while you are about 
it: First apples, celery and onions are 
poached gently in butter, then chicken 
broth is added for the long, slow cooking. 
I've discovered that cooking time can be 
almost halved if ingredients are whizzed 
in a blender after the butter-cooking 
step. We all have our own variations of 
curry sauce: Bruce adds eggplant to the 
apples, celery and onions; I soak coconut 
in milk for flavor and add it at the end. 
But we all agree that if the sauce is to 
be held awhile, it's best to add the curry 
powder and other distinctive herbs after 
the sauce is thawed, because these flavors 
may alter during long storage. Also, the 
sauce can be thickened then to your 
individual taste. 

Another type of cubist cooking is done 
with meat. Although veal and lamb can 
be used, beef is perhaps the most popu- 
lar. As a good general rule, cut the meat 
in IH-inch cubes, dredge lightly with 
seasoned flour and brown; add water to 
just cover, and cook slowly until tender. 
Celery, onions, parsley and peppercorns 
can be added if desired, but strain them 
out before freezing. Put the meat and 
its broth in freezer containers the 
quart .size is often convenient for freez- 
ing. This can be turned into Slew with 
vegetables, with or without dumi)iing8 
or Heef Pie fheat meat plus stock wit h 

tiny onions, carrots, frozen peas, and 
cook until vegetables are tendef; turn 
into casserole, add pastry topping and 
bake until crust is browned). Or some- 
times, at my house, we turn the base into 
a hearty main dish of French Style 
Stew, which is served with French 
bread and is waiting to satisfy hungry 
appetites after horseback riding. My 
own version includes carrots, turnips, 
onions (all diced), canned tomatoes and 
two kinds of beans— red kidney and 
French cut green beans. Add paprika to 
taste and red wine if desired. 

I feel very rich in the makings of good 
meals when there are casseroles of 
browned chicken in the freezer. Be- 
fore heating, I add the finishing touches 
which turn them in to more distinctive 
main dishes. 

Preparation for the freezer: Wash and 
drain quartered chicken, dredge with 
lightly salted flour and saute until lightly 
browned (but not completely cooked). 
Transfer to casseroles for freezing. When 
preparing several batches, rinse fry pan 
with 3^2 cup water after each browning 
and add to just-completed casserole. 

Final cooking: To frozen chicken for 
four, sprinkle on salt and pepper and 
flavorings — some of my favorites are 
listed below. Cover casserole and cook in 
a 375° oven for about 45 minutes or until 
chicken is tender. 

Chicken Orientale. Add preserved 
kumquats, halved; a sprinkle of pine 
nuts or slivered almonds, white wine. 
Kentucky Special Chicken. Combine 
14 cup sliced ripe olives; }4 cup thinly 
sHced water chestnuts; }/^ cup orange 
juice and 14 cup white wine, and add. 
Tomato Savory Chicken. Combine 
1 cup canned tomatoes, 34 cup cooked 
baby onions, 3^ teaspoon each savory, 
marjoram, thyme, and add to chicken. 

How to freeze casseroles. To save 
freezer space and to keep your casseroles 
in circulation, you can make liners of 
heavy freezer foil; fit snugly in dish be- 
fore adding food. Tuck wrap closely 
around irregular foods such as chicken 
(to keep from drying) and freeze. When 
it's frozen, the solid block including the 
foil can be slipped out. Overwrap for ad- 
ditional protection and store in freezer. 
When removed, peel off foil and fit food 
into original casserole. 

Main-Course Freezer Foods. We are 

particularly partial to Poppy Cannon's 
Lamb Grecian Style, which she pre- 
pares ahead, letting the flavors blend 
during freezer storage. For this, lamb 
cut into walnut-sized pieces for skewer 
cooking is marinated in olive oil fla- 
vored with chopped parsley, salt, pepper 
and onion (a good blend that does not 
lose or change flavor during storage). 
The meat is thawed enough to separate 
and then threaded onto spits, alternated 
with tomato wedges and bay leaves for 
broiling. In my own freezer there is in- 
variably Beef StroganofT (sometimes the 
beef is miniature balls of ground steak 
rather than more expensive sirloin 
strips). Also, because it is a family fa- 
vorite, there are usually Italian Meat 
Balls, and the grated Parmesan cheese 
to go with them, in the freezer. There is 
no problem in freezing these. But do re- 
member it's so easy to double or triple 
recipes so there will be several meals' 
worth. The easiest way to heat these 
saucy foods, if you have lime, is over 
water, either in a double boiler or in one 
of the freezer containers that can go di- 
rectly into a (continued oh page 91 ) 

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^Icoa Wrap buys the Butter 
!br these new 

liutter^barhecued beef kabobs 

Wer\ e these buttery beef kabobs at your next 
xtkout and Alcoa Wrap will mail you 25c. 
his more than covers the cost of the butter 
sed in this recipe. 

If you're tired of taking chances on ordinary 
abobs that shrivel and burn before they're 
ooked, these butter-barbecued beef kabobs 

are for you ! The secret of success is the flavor- 
ful butter sauce spooned over each kabob and 
enclosed in Alcoa Wrap. The tasty butter 
sauce flavors every tender bite while super 
strength Alcoa Wrap keeps both meat and 
vegetables moist and juicy. No wonder they're 
so popular. Better make plenty! 

Cabobs with Butter Barbecue Sauce 

"o prepare taucc, heat h'l cup (1 
dck) butter in small saucepan until 
mber color. Add 'Z, cup lemon juice, 
tablespoon Worcestershire sauce, 1 
;aspoon prepared mustard, ' 2 tea- 
poon salt, dash of pepper and 3 table- 
poons chopped chives or onions; blend 
horoughly. Simmer 5 minutes. Yields 
bout ' i cup; enough for four or five 
-inch kabobs. 

To prepare kabobi, use a combination of the following: V/2' 
inch cubes sirloin tip, 1 '/2-inch squares green pepper, fresh 
mushrooms and cherry tomatoes. Place on grill 5-6 inches from 
hot coals. Brown slowly, for 10-12minutes, turning occasionally 
and brushing with Butter Barbecue Sauce. Place kabobs on 
double thick 12-inch squares of Alcoa Wrap; top each with 2 
tablespoons sauce. Double fold over top; twist ends. Place on 
grill over medium coals folded side up (do not turn) for 10-15 
minutes or until desired degree of doneness. To serve, open 
package, remove skewer and use foil as serving container. 

Here*S how to get 25<! Mail your name and addn 
plus the Better Packaging Label from any size package 
Alcoa Wrap and the name panel from one pound of yo 
favorite brand of butter to Barbecue 
Recipe, Box 4774, Dept. G, Chicago, 
Illinois 60677. Offer expires October 31, 
1966. Void in any state where taxed, 
prohibited or restricted by law. Only 
one refund per family. 


Please send me 

a message from dairy farmer members of 

american dairy association 

New Cookbook— only $1«50 

It has 224 pages with more than 500 great recip 
plus fifteen full-color illustrations. Get yours no 
U«e this coupon for cookbook orders on! 

Milwaukee, Wlscontin 53XXX 

copies of Modern Approach 

Everyday Cooking. I am enclosing $1.50 for each copy. 





-Zip Code 

Allow 3-4 weeks for delivery. Offer expires June 30, 1967. Void 
any state where taxed or prohibited. Offer good only in U.S. 
and possessions. 


Beth Cheated Her Creative Talent 


The wife who enriches her own life 
wisely is improving her home and 
strengthening her family life at the 
same time. She need never feel guilty, 
so long as she keeps her eye on the 
home as the center of her existence — 
though not the totality of it ! Beth, in 
this case, was starving one of the 
most important parts of her person- 
ality by refusing to develop her real 
talent for painting. She did not re- 
alize that art, far from being a harm- 
ful luxury to any homemaker, can be 
an invaluable therapy for many 
women. When she began to express 
her whole personality, instead of 
crippling a vital part of it, she not 
merely improved her health but be- 
came a much better wife and mother. 
A million other wives could profit- 
ably follow her example. The coun- 
selor in this case was Herbert Gutman . 

Paul Popenoe, Sc.D. 
Founder and president of the 
American Institute of 
Family Relations 

"When Jack and I moved to Los 
Angeles last March he introduced 
me to his new boss as his favorite 
'Sunday painter,"' said 39-year-old 
Beth, the tall, youthful-looking 
mother of three daughters. "Jack 
then suggested to his surprised em- 
ployer, a wealthy manufacturer 
whose wife collects modern art as a 
hobby, that he and the lady drop 
in on us sometime and take a look 
at my latest 'masterpieces.' 

"In our eighteen years together 
Jack has pursued his engineering 
career in seven different states, and 
I have heard his comments about 
my not-s^j-wonderful powers as an 
artist many times. This time I knew 
his intentions were kind, that he 
was trying to make me seem like a 
fawnnating, gifted woman to his 
boss instead of the dull, incompe- 
tent and unimiKjftant per8t)n I've 

"I darn near burst int^ Uars in 
front of everylK>dy, and barely 

managed to dash into the powder 
room, where I cried like crazy. Jack 
took me away from the party with- 
out comment, but I could tell he 
was disgusted. For at least a year 
I've been such a wet blanket, such 
a social flop, that I spoil his fun 
.and handicap him professionally. 

"My shyness and tiresome sensi- 
tivity, the spells of gloom that 
Sally, our oldest girl, describes as 
'Mother's Miseries,' are hard on 
my daughters and harder still on 
Jack. Our marriage was once ideal, 
but now, for no reason I can fathom, 
there are long periods when I am 
almost suicidally depressed. Dur- 
ing those dark blue periods every- 
thing seems to hit me wrong. 

"On the way home I told Jack I 
had a migraine headache, which 
was quite true, and he patted my 
hand in an absent sort of way and 
began to hum. At once the head- 
ache got much worse, and Jack's 
humming was not to blame. I had 
nothing to blame Jack for. That 
pounding headache, like most of 
the dreary collection of minor- 
league maladies that have afflicted 
me of late, was psychosomatic, I'm 
sure, and stirred up by silly, child- 
ish emotions. 

"I should have been sufficiently 
mature to laugh when Jack called 
me a Sunday painter. His phrase 
was entirely accurate. As an artist 
I am a rank amateur, despite the 
fact I started off with quite a lot of 
ability in line and composition and 
a good bit of color sense. Back in 
college I placed first in several na- 
tional competitions, and my teach- 
ers predicted a brilliant future for 
me. However, I didn't stick to my 
brushes, and I never did regard my- 
self as a real professional. 

"Even as a sbcteen-year-old col- 
lege student on a scholarshif), fresh 
off a rocky, impoverished farm, I 
realized I lacked the singleminded- 
ness, the ambition and the drive to 
becxjme a firat-rate painter. Actu- 

ally, I guess I lacked the desire, the 
burning 'inner fire' you read about. 
In order to please my hardworking, 
prosaic parents, who firmly believed 
education should be practical and 
directed toward a well-paid job, I 
voluntarily transferred from the 
fine-arts department and majored 
in math and science; when I met 
Jack I was employed as a chemist. 

"Since our marriage I have man- 
aged to squeeze in a little painting 
at odd times, and occasionally I've 
even had the chance to study with 
good people. But, on the whole, art 
has amounted to very little in the 
general scheme of my life as a wife 
and mother. 

"Jack and I arrived home from 
the party earlier than our daugh- 
ters expected. We walked in on 
chaos. Seventeen-year-old Sail had 
invited in several neighbor boys, 
no other girls, for a rousing session 
of rock and roll. The boys were 
drinking beer from cans scattered 
on the Persian rug Jack's mother 
gave us. Sally was crammed into 
stretch pants that belong to her 
smaller sister Ann, who is fifteen; 
Sally was smoking a cigarette and 
making like a femme fatale. Some- 
body had locked Ann in the bath- 
room to remove her from the scene, 
and she was yelling and hammering 
on the door. Betsy, who is eleven 
and our youngest, tends to be over- 
weight and stuffs herself unless I 
watch her. Well, Betsy had wan- 
dered in from the bedroom and was 
sprawled before the television with 
a spoon in either hand. Glassy- 
eyed and half asleep, she was eat- 
ing peanut butter with one spoon 
and apple jelly with the other. 

"I was in no condition to appre- 
ciate the humor of the spectacle. I 
went up like a ro(;ket from a 
launching pad. 

"I screamed at Sally, ordered her 
to bed as though she were in romp- 
ers, humiliated her in the presence 
of her guests. I snatched tlie jelly 

and peanut butter from Betsy and. 
called her my roly-poly, sub-teen 
Venus — a description that fits, and 
cuts her to the quick. Betsy is as 
sensitive as I am. I unlocked the 
bathroom door and released Ann, 
who was crushed and weeping at 
her older sister's betrayal. I sent 
Ann to bed, too. Then I dismissed 
the woebegone boys. 

"The girls were entitled to ex- 
plain their side of things. They 
needed my understanding as a 
mother, and at the very least they 
deserved common courtesy. I knew 
I was behaving disgracefully, losing 
my own dignity and the respect of 
my daughters. I couldn't control 
myself. I acted like a wild woman. 
And when Jack tried to be helpful, 
took my arm and begged me to be 
calm, I slapped him. For weeks 
afterward, the girls hardly spoke to 
me, and I didn't blame them. 

"Only a year or so ago, strange 
to say, I felt on top of the world. I 
got along wonderfully with my 
daughters. Jack and I could talk 
happily about nearly everything 
except, perhaps, his feelings. I have 
always talked too much about my 
emotions, while he has talked too 
little. Like other couples we've had 
our money arguments, particularly 
after we bought our own house and 
had to borrow money to pay the 
expenses of remodeling. Jack earns 
about $17,000 a year, but is in- 
clined to be a careless sjiender. 

"When we met. Jack had just 
received his engineering degree; 
I was working in a laboratory and 
painting on the side — virtually 
in secret. I felt comfortable with 
him from the beginning. He said 
nice things about the pictures I'd 
been too shy to show anyone else. 
I fell in love with him almost at 
once, although I had a struggle 
with my conscience before 1 ac- 
cej)ted his proposal. I thought I 
owed it to my jjarents to stick with 
my laboratory job (continued) 

This series Is based on information from the files of the American Institute of Family Relations of Los Angeles, a nonprolil cflurational, counseling and rosearch organization with n staH of 
70 counselors. It is the oldest anc^ largest marrlage countellng center in Ihe world. The true stories reported here are cjrawn from Interviews with couples and counselors involved. Names, 
geographic locations and other minor details have been altered to conceal the Identity ol the couples who sought counseling. 


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THIS MARRIAGE continued 

to justify my education, but Jacl< won 
out over my sense of duty. During our 
brief courtship he would pack my paints, 
pencils and other gear in his car and take 
me on weekend sketching expeditions. 
(Nowadays my Sundays belong to an 
adult Bible class, and Saturdays to a 
Brownie troop.) 

"How exciting those first years were! 
I gladly traipsed around the country 
with Jack, followed him from job to job. 
Sally was born in Dallas, Ann in Omaha, 
Betsy in Seattle. We lived in trailer 
camps, in sleazy boarding houses, in 
cramped apartments, and in more 
pleasant places, too. I learned to sew so 
that my daughters could have pretty 
clothes; I learned to cook and clean, al- 
though I dislike housework and have no 
knack for it. My mother was too critical 
and impatient with my slowness as a 
child to teach me much. I learned on 
my own to shop carefully, to budget, 
and to save. 

"As the children grew, my domestic 
responsibilities grew too. But in those 
days I had the time and the opportunity 
to put my artistic talents to good use. 
In Dallas I superintended the painting 
of a mural in the Sunday-school room. 
In Omaha I headed the P.T.A. poster 
committee, and did many of the posters 
myself. I was useful to Jack then: 
church friends in Dallas recommended 
him for the Omaha job. I was useful to 
the children: Sally and Ann made 
friends through my wide acquaintance- 
ship. I was pleased with myself, be- 
cause I seemed to have conquered the 
shyness that had cursed me since my 
lonely childhood on an isolated Penn- 
sylvania farm. 

After we came to California every- 
thing seemed to change. I have always 
devoted my strength and energy to my 
family, put their wishes and welfare 
ahead of any ambitions of mine. Yet I 
know somehow I've failed. Once I was a 
friend and companion to my daughters. 
Sally and Ann and I used to have great 
times together; we chattered about their 
strict teachers, giggled about their boy- 
friends. Now there is a growing aliena- 
tion, and I hold myself responsible. 

"I sleep miserably at night and wake 
up headachy and exhausted. I can 
scarcely drag myself through my daily 
chores. I get behind with my housework, 
my work with the Brownies and at the 
P.T.A., my increasing work at our 
church — where I am now the unpaid 
bookkeeper. In fact, I have become so 
harried and haunted by unfinished and 
undone tasks that I feel I just can't 
waste the time to get out my easel— al- 
though, for me, painting can be won- 
derfully soothing and relaxing. 

"I do recall one sunny afternoon a 
few weeks ago when there were such mar- 
velous shadows and cloud formations 
that I yielded to temptation. Just as I 
set up my easel on the patio the tele- 
phone rang. It was the minister's wife. 
She was young, frightened, and des- 
perate. Her husband had just telephoned 
that he was bringing the bishop, two 
canons, and assorted laymen home for 
five-o'clock tea. Could I help her out? 
I could, but while the two cakes baked 
I sat beside the •stove and wept. 

"At ihirty-nine I can't claim to be 
young, but I'm frightened and (lesp(!r 
ale. Somr'thing has liapiiciu-d to me. My 
nervous syslcm no longer answers lo 
my will. I cry when I Hhould hav<' a slifl' 

upper lip, and I have a stubborn upper 
lip with my children when they are 
right and I am wrong. Sally and Ann 
used to boast to other children about 
their talented mother; now they are 
ruthlessly critical about everything I 
try to do for them. 

"Jack won't admit it, but I know he 
is bored with me. In his new job he has 
a territorial division to supervise. But 
I doubt that his additional duties ac- 
count for his long absences. I am sure 
he is tired to death of our untidy new 
house — my incompetence, my rotten 
temper, my whining and interminable 
complaints, my hypochondria. 

"I feel I have failed in my marriage. 
I want to improve, but I don't know 
where to start." 

"T ♦ 

-L don t pretend to understand women, 
although I live surrounded by feminine 
chitter-chatter," 40-year-old Jack said 
to the counselor at the American Insti- 
tute of Family Relations. "Beth com- 
plains I'm too closemouthed, but in our 
house nobody listens if I do attempt to 
talk. Unless I receive attention I'd just 
as soon keep quiet. For that matter, I 
never did go along with the average 
woman's passionate interest in analyz- 
ing the ins and outs of her smallest feel- 
ings at endless length. 

"I love my wife very much, but ap- 
Ijarently she doesn't believe it. For some 
mysterious feminine reason Beth seems 
determined to force me into accepting 
her low opinion of herself, to agree with 
her that she is stupid, slipshod, ineffi- 
cient. I won't do it. 

"Until quite recently Beth was one of 
the most efficient people, male or female, | 
I have ever known. She could and did ac- ' 
complish miracles every day — whip 
through her housework, manage half a j 
dozen committees by telephone, design 
the costumes for a Girl Scout dram.a, 
paint and deliver a station wagonful of 
posters for a charity drive, and greet me 
in the evening with a kiss and a dandy 
dinner. But for the past year she has : 
been gloomy, weepy, short on energy, 
half sick. Beth has always sufi'ered fron. 
temperamental highs and lows, periodic 
depressions, but this present depression 
of hers has dragged on indefinitely. 

"She worries about money because 
we owe a few hundred dollars at the 
bank, a debt I am rapidly reducing. 
Beth puts very little stock in the credit 
economy of this nation. During all the 
years our girls were babies, we lived in 
rented places, and Beth sacrificed the 
comfort of a modern kitchen and mod- 
ern conveniences — so we could accumu- 
late a huge down payment for a house 
and cut the interest charges. Now she 
worries because I took out a small loan 
to renovate and redecorate our first real 

"She worries because Ann and Sally 
are adolescent and, consequently, ego- 
tistical and self-centered. She worries 
because Betsy gobbles cookies and 
candy and skips vegetables just like 
other eleven-year- old kids. She spoils 
and indulges our girls, and their ingrati- 
tude (normal at that age) worries her, 
m.akes her think she has been an unsuc- 
cessful mother. 

"When we remodeled our last 
summer she gave up the utility room, 
which she used as a combination studio 
and office, and turned il over lo fifteen- 
year-old Ann, the family shuttcrbug, to 
use for M darkroom. She moved her desk, 
her commitlce files, her ea.sel and all her 
paint iiig gear, loan alcove in the garage. 

doubt she has touched a paintbrush 
ice the move; I know she dropped out 
the adult art chiss she was attending 
the neighborhood higii school. 
"Not long ago I found her rummaging 
'hind the shoji screen that defines her 
)rner of tiie garage, searching through 
le clutter for a church-committee re- 
j jrt she needed. She looked wan and 
ile and tired. I hesitate to interfere 
itii Beth's arrangements, because she 
in be extremely obstinate. Neverthe- 
■ss, I suggested that I haul all her traps 
ack inside right then, that she take 
)ssession of Sally's bedroom which, 
icidentally, has a good north light for 
ainting. Her eyes filled with tears, but 
le (hM-lined at once on the grounds that 
ally might be hurt, might feel we were 
icitly evicting her from her own home, 
teth took this ridiculous position, de- 
pite the fact that Sally entered college 

I September, is now living in a dormi- 
ry fifty miles from us and is spending 

II her weekends on the campus in sulky 
olitude to punish us, her cruel parents, she has no car. I didn't argue the 
natter, realizing it would be futile. And 
Jeth still niiiintains her offici»-studio in a 
ladly lighted corner of the garage. 


eth and I have nearly everything 
hat men and women st'ek and \ alue in 
narriage. We have thr»'e bright chihiren, 
.vho may be a little spoiled, but are 
)asically good human bi-ings with high 
<tandards of behavior. W'e don't go out 
mich days, but we have acquired 
many friends here in Los Angeles be- of Beth's church and club work. 
I'm more standoffish and reserved than 
Beth; no doubt I'm es.sentially a colder 
person. She has made frientis for me and 
)iir girls through the years and has been 
of genuine help to me professionally. 
\fter quite a bit of wandering I have 
settled in a job I thoroughly enjoy, a 
ob with e.xcellent prospects. 

"Beth and I are well mated, ."iexually 
ind intellectually. I was first attracted 
Beth because she was the first girl I 
ever met who could dis<'uss mathematics 
and the technical problems of engineer- 
ng and make sense. My mother is the 
)roduct of a fashionable 'finishing 
school' (as it was called in her day), a 
mental lightweight who can't add two 
plus two, and was a real drag on Dad 
in his career as an engineer. I wanted to 
marry a good-looking girl with sweet- 
ness and brains; Beth filled the bill. 

"Beth gets along fine with my par- 
ents far better than I get on with 
hers which is fortunate. My mother 
and father visit us every year, and feel 
quite free to stage the knock-down, 
drag-out fights with each other that 
made boyhood a horror for my two older 
brothers and me. As youngsters, the 
three of us used to be terrified we would 
starve to death every time my father 
angrily refused to pay the extravagant 
monthly bills Mother had run up on 
him, and then slammed the door and 
walked out on us until his temper cooled. 
Sometimes he was gone for several days, 
and she would carry on and helplessly 
wring her hands, while our terror 
mounted. The nonstop, public squab- 
bling of my parents still embarrasses 
me, but now I can take it in my stride, 
thanks to Beth. 

"VVe seldom see her parents. Last 
summer they did visit us for ten days, 
traveling from Pennsylvania to Cali- 
fornia by bus. My thrifty in-laws could 
cash in their land and other assets for 
twice as much, maybe more, than my 

debt-encumbered parents. I gather 
Beth's people had a tough time during 
the national depression, but they hung 
on to a 200-acre farm located within 
easy driving distance of Philadelphia. 
They now own it free and clear, but you 
would never guess it. 

"Beth's mother, a whispery, well- 
meaning little woman, was harder on my 
nerves than her father. The old gentle- 
man spent most of his visit riding buses 
to inspect California farming methods, 
but my mother-in-law stuck close to the 
house. Whenever I appeared, she 
ducked around the nearest corner with- 
out a word, but in secrecy she catered 
to me like a nimble-fingered, busy little 
ghost. If I laid down my shirt and trou- 
.sers, they |)romptly disappeared. She 
tightened the buttons, cleaned the spots, 
stealthily returned my refurbished cloth- 
ing to a bureau drawer when I wasn't 

"I'm sure Beth isn't fond of house- 
work, but she won't hire a cleaning 
woman, although I've urged her to. She 
objects to the expense, and insists that 
cleaning women are sloppy. Her goal in 
housekeeping is perfection, and she 
knocks herself out trying to achieve it. 
My mother-in-law arrived at perfection 
long ago. 

"One day during the visit, Beth 
vacuumed, dusted, waxed and polished 
our living room until everything shone. 
But suddenly her mother spied a loose 
bit of thread that the vacuum sweeper 
had missed. She glanced reproachfully 
at Beth and plucked the thread from the 
carpet as though it was a venomous 
snake. Later I overheard her scolding 
Beth. She told my wife that she didn't 
appreciate the fine home provided by 
the hard work of her fine husband ( me! ); 
that as a grown woman she was still a 
Mazy rattlebrain.' 

"It was comic except for the effect 
on Beth. That night after we went to 
bed she cried as though her heart was 

"In my opinion, there is something 
physically wrong with Beth, but she 
hasn't seen a doctor in months. Before 
we moved to California, everybody in 
the family came down with flu. Beth 
nursed us all, and has never recovered 
her strength. Yet she pushes herself too 
hard, as she always has; and she doesn't 
eat properly. She follows a low-calorie 
diet that was recommended for Betsy, 
and is thin as a rail. 

"Our marriage isn't in need of mend- 
ing. In fact, I'm positive any marital 
poll would show Beth and I are better 
ofl and better suited than ninety-nine 
percent of the married couples in this 
country. But Beth needs help." 

This was an unusual case," the mar- 
riage counselor said. "There was no 
question of a divorce. Beth and Jack 
weren't seriously at odds; indeed, I 
saw him only once. 

"Tne trouble was with Beth, who was 
at such serious odds with herself that 
she mistakenly believed, against all the 
evidence, that her husband and daugh- 
ters shared her own savage self-deprecia- 
tion. At my request, Beth consulted a 
doctor and went through a complete 
physical examination. It developed that 
she had anemia; a series of iron and liver 
shots pepped her up, but, of course, did 
not resolve her major difficulties. 

"In a number of interviews Beth and 
I explored her background. She grew 
up in loneliness on a farm, then owned 
by her grandparents, {coiitinited 


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Summer Beautv Hints 

Mrs. M. Reynolds 
Beauty Shin Care 

Th ere's nothing like summer sunshine for turning a satin- 
smooth skin to prettiest pale gold. Here are some suggestions 
for cherishing the precious softness and youthfulness of your 
summertime complexion. 


Smooth your skin to new radiance and beauty by anointing 
your face and neck every day with a tropical moist oil. It takes 
only a few moments to apply this remarkable beauty fluid, yet 
it will protect the skin against climatic extremes and wrinkle- 
dryness, promote a petal-soft and dewy surface texture. Used 
as an ideal powder-base, oil of Olay also insures that make-up 
gains a matt perfection and loveliness that will last all through 
the day. 


Always remove make-up by first cleansing away eye and lip 
colors, so that they don't get smeared over the rest of the face. 
Moisten a cotton pad with lemon Jelvyn cleansing milk and 
carefully wipe off eye and lip cosmetics, using a fresh piece of 
cotton with every stroke. Now spread the beauty milk over the 
face and neck, allowing a few seconds for it thoroughly to 
cleanse the skin. Remove with light, sweeping strokes of a tis- 
sue. Now smooth on a beautifying application of moist oil of 
Olay to give your complexion its final touch of youthful beauty. 


To give your complexion a delightful dewy bloom, try this 
simple beauty procedure. Dampen a cloth in lemon Jelvyn 
freshener and press it over your face, molding it to your fea- 
tures. Relax for a few minutes while the lemon tones and 
clears the skin. Now, to hold the clear, cool loveliness apparent 
on your skin, smooth on your oil of Olay and use it always 
beneath your make-up to protect against wrinkle-dryness and 
to give the skin a day-long dewy look. 


A supple, velvety complexion is the natural reward of a 
cream-and-massage routine. Cherish your skin each night with 
the rich unguents of a vitalizing night cream, using the pads of 
your fingers to massage the cream from brow to hairline, from 
chin to cheeks, and coaxing the moisturizing oils into tiny dry 
lines. Neck, throat and shoulders will also rapidly respond to 
the soft touch of Olay vitalizing night cream and take on an 
exquisite softness and beauty. 

A'l v»Ttu«;m»;ril 

THIS MARRIAGE continued 

at a period when money was scarce. An 
only child, she grew up among sober- 
minded, hard-working adults, without 
young friends, without gaiety. In early 
childhood she was so hungry for compan- 
ionship that she invented an imaginary 
friend; this friend, Beth told me years 
after, loomed so large in her mind that 
at mealtimes she habitually allotted a 
small amount of food on her plate to 
accommodate the imaginary Genevieve. 

"An exceptionally talented and intel- 
ligent little girl, Beth was deeply influ- 
enced by her mother, who was foreign- 
born. Her mother was simultaneously 
self-eflacing, hypercritical, domineer- 
ing. She imbued her daughter with the 
idea that domesticity and family inter- 
ests come first with a woman, that self- 
sacrifice is the inevitable lot of women. 
A scholarship carried Beth to college, 
but there, at the behest of her mother, 
she dropped her 'impractical' art studies 
in favor of math and science. 

"Once she married Jack, Beth went all 
out to please him and later their chil- 
dren. At the same time, for a number of 
years circumstances made it possible for 
Beth to lead a life that fulfilled her own 
wishes and satisfied inner drives of which 
she was unaware. Beth had picked up 
from her parents a distaste for spend- 
ing; whenever she parted with a care- 
less dollar she felt guilty and uncom- 
fortable. During the years she and the 
girls made do in economical rented 
places, it is very probable Jack would 
have preferred more comfortable sur- 
roundings—but he did not protest. 

"Beth cheerfully banked a goodly 
portion of his earnings, ^•i^tuously ear- 
marked the savings for the purchase of 
a future home, and at the same time she 
spared herself the pang of spending. 
When she and Jack eventually bought 
their house, Beth found no joy in the re- 
alization of their dream. Instead she was 
flooded with feelings of guilt and worry. 

"The basic source of Beth's wretched- 
ness, however, we traced down to her 
frustration as an artist. After the family 
moved to California, she fell victim to 
her own versatility and efficiency. The 
church she and Jack joined called on 
her to keep the books — a chore she 
detested— and there was no Sunday- 
school mural to paint. The local P.T.A. 
elected her president in charge of raising 
funds, and she was too amiable or too 
weak to decline the summons. 

"Beth possessed a strong creative 
drive, a yearning to express herself with 
brush and pencil, but she felt her ar- 

tistic talents were useless unless llnr-y 
were of ser\-ice to her family qf com- 
munity. By her rigid code, it was worth- 
while to paint a mural for the Dallas 
Sunday school, help her daughters and 
their friends produce colorful posters for 
a school event. To paint for her own 
light and satisfaction, in Beth's opini. 
was sheer self-indulgence, possibly as 
ful waste of time. 

"Whenever Beth felt inclined to set 
up her easel, she did her best to fight 
her desire to paint, and instead do some- 
thing practical for her family or f' r 
other people. This fierce inner confli 
this continuing battle between 'I wa 
and 'I should' virtually paral>-zed 1 • 
She was laid low by migraine headachi 
insomnia, stomach upsets. 

"As soon as we identified— and Bet It 
acknowledged — her underlying emo- 
tional conflict, she was intelligent enov.- 
to make rapid changes in her thinki 
her household regimen, her style of liu-. 
First of all, she hired the twice-a-wet^-k 
cleaning woman Jack had long urged. 
Next, she admitted that she had shoul- 
dered more than her fair share of com- 
mittee and commiuiity work; she re- 
signed as the church bookkeeper and 
P.T..\. president and let others assume 
these public-spirited burdens. 

"Beth rejoined the once-a-week eve- 
ning art class at the high school taught 
by a well-known artist, whose technique 
she admired. She moved out of the 
garage and took over Sally's bedroom 
for a studio. She and Jack drove out to 
the college one weekend and spelled out 
the story of their finances to Sally in 
detail; when the sulky college freshman 
understood e.xactly why her parents 
couldn't afford to buy and insure a car 
for her, she took pride in the fact that 
they confided in her as an adult. Sally 
now drives home with classmates who 
own cars to spend her weekends. 

"Beth has regained her sense of 
humor, and once again enjoys her daugh- 
ters, willingly accepting their limitations 
as teen-agers. Her migraine headaches 
and other psychosomatic maladies are 
a thing of the past. She paints whenever 
she is in the mood. 

"One Saturday night not too long ago, 
at Jack's suggestion, the three girls held 
a family conference. Afterward they 
solemnly informed Beth that she had 
their vote as a first-class mother and as 
a first-class artist, too. 

"On that same Saturday I accepted an 
invitation to attend a showing of Beth's 
paintings, sponsored by a local gallery. 
When I arrived, nearly all of her pic- 
tures had been sold." end 


Dialogue with Mothers, by Dr. Bruno Bettelheim 

Jealousy in the 
Younger Sibling 

First Mother: What do you do with 
children who purposely spill things 
or do things they shouldn't? Like 
my little boy; he's two. He got a 
rlass of milk, walked into the living 
room and poured it on the sofa. 
Second Mother: I'd explode. 
First Mother: / did! 
Third Mother: Why did you let him 
in the living room with the milk? 
First Mother: I was busy with the 
baby That's the bane of my exist- 
ence, being busy with the baby. 
Second Mother: If you were busy 
with the baby, he probably wanted 
to get your attention. 
First Mother: That's probably true. 
But what can you do after he spills 
a glass of milk? Even if you know 
his motive for doing it, are you going 
to reward him, or try to make sure 
it doesn't happen again, or what? 
Dr. Betteihelm: That's a good 
c|ueslion. W e've learned a great deal 
about understanding children and 
their motives. When you were little 
and spilled a glass of milk on the 
couch, your mother didn't know 
why. Maybe she was convinced it 
was just the devil in you, and the 
devil had to be driven out. After all, 
that was our view of children for 
centuries. Now here comes a newer 
generation. And you say, "I know 
why my son does it. He has a reast)n. 
I made him jealous by giving him a 
competitor for my attention. So he 
tries to get even for my giving too 
much attention to the baby, maybe 
even my nursing the baby when he 
may still want to nurse. So he spills 
milk in a way that forces me to pay 
attention to him." We know all that. 
But what do we do with it? 
First Mother: Are you asking what 
I did do about it? 

Dr. B.: Yes, but I'd also like to know 
your attitude to the whole thing, 
since you knew what made him do it. 
First Mother: I scolded him, and I 
told him it was bad. And that I knew 
he really didn't need to do it. 
Dr. B.: Excuse me, but what does it 
really mean, "You didn't need to do 
it," when you knew he needed to 
do it? That's the difference between 
you and your mother, you know. 
Your mother was convinced you 
didn't need to do such a thing; it was 
only the devil in you. Things were 
simple for her. But you tell me you 
knew he needed to do it, and then 
you tell him he didn't. 
First Mother: Maybe I'm using the 
wrong words. 

Dr. B.: No, I'm not so interested in 
the words. I'm interested in how it 
looks to you. 

First Mother: All I could do in that 
instance was to make up to him 
somewhat. I scolded him, certainly, 
for doing it, and made him help me 
clean it up. Which was about the 
worst punishment he could have had 
for behaving that way. But other 
than that I let it go. 
Fourth Mother: I think we all learn 
the hard way. It's important what 
you do at the time, but it's more im- 
portant what you do from then on. 
Fifth Mother: Aren't these warning 
signals? At least you can recognize 
them, and not just close your eyes 

and go on back to your business as if 
they'd never happened. 
Dr. B.: This is all very nice, and if 
everything goes smoothly, there's 
nothing more to worry about. But 
such things do come up— the older 
one spills milk or pulls some other 
trick. Foresight is better than hind- 
sight, but it doesn't always work. 
They are jealous of each other. 
Sixth Mother: They certainly are, 
only I have it the other way around. 
I have four children. The youngest 
one is three, and he's jealous of the 
older children. He wants to be able 
to do everything they do. He breaks 
their toys because he gets angry 
when he can't do the things the 
older children can do. So what do 
you do? If I reprimand him for doing 
something that's wrong, he'll do 
something else that's even worse. 
P'rankly I don't know how to deal 
with him. I know if I punish him for 
something, he's going to go out in 
the kitchen and dump out a box of 
soap or something. And I know it's 
because . . . well, no, I don't always 
know. Some things I can't see any 
reason for. But I can't punish him 
every time he does something wrong ! 
Dr. B.: Let's talk about it a little. 
Sixth Mother: Well, the three older 
cluldren all go to school, all day. and 
he very much wants to go to school. 
He walked down there several times, 
and I've had to go and get him. He 
wants to know what his teacher's 
name is going to be. He has an older 
brother, David, who's six, and they 
play together pretty well. But if he 
gets angry with David, he'll try to 
break his toys. Most of the time he's 
a very nice little boy. It's just when 
he's in these moods. And sometimes 
it really frightens me, because I 
don't know how to handle it. 
Dr. B.: I'sually we have the jealousy 
of the older for the younger. There's 
much written and said about this 
jealousy of the older child for the 
new baby, and how he suffers be- 
cause he has to share mother. It's 
true; it is very hard for the older 
child to watch all the attention the 
younger one gets. But we tend to 
overlook how difficult this jealousy 
problem is for the younger child, 
too, and that it takes on different 
forms. So I'm very glad that your 
story gives us a chance to look at it 
from the younger child's side. All 
right, he breaks the older children's 
toys, ^^'hy do you think he's so 
jealous of the older ones? 
Sixth Mother: He must feel that 
he's missing out on something. 
Fifth Mother: Maybe he needs chil- 
dren his own age to play with. 
Sixth Mother: He has a lot of chil- 
dren his own age living in a court 
area. There are five or six nearby 
that he plays with, and he plays 
quite nicely, too, most of the time. 
He gets along with kids his own age 
pretty well. Maybe he just feels 
he's so different from the other 
three. You can't treat every child 
the same, and we do baby him 
more. Maybe he's trying to let us 
know, or maybe he's trying to find an 
identity that would be compatible 
with the older children, {continued) 


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V2 teaspoon grated lemon rind 
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1 cup boiling water 
1 can (11 oz.) mandarin 

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Yes, Christ is alive 
in the world today 

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healing the sick, raising the dead. It 
may therefore seem ridiculous to insist 
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present in this modern age of ours. 

Yet that is the very heart and core 
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this belief is that the Church is the 
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over all the church, which indeed is 
His body..." (Eph. 1:22-23). And 
again — Christ "loved the church, and 
delivered him.self up for her, that he 
might sanaify her ... in order that he 
might present to himself the church 
in all her glory" (Eph. 5:25-27). 

Jesus did not sacrifice Himself on 
the cross just to redeem the people of 
His own time on earth. He did not 
come to establish a kingdom that 
would last for a short time and then 
pass away. Nor did He say that His 
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401 Indapendanca Squara, Phlla., Pa. 1910S 

JEALOUSY coulimted 

Fifth Mother: If he wants to be in 
school so much, what about a nursery 

Sixth Mother: That's what I've been 
thinking. Maybe ev'en just a couple of 
days a week. 

Dr. B.: How about the rest of you? Has 
anyone else had this experience of the 
younger one being jealous of older ones? 
Seventh Mother: I do. I have a five- 
year-old, and she wants so much to be 
like her eight-year-old sister. Slie tries 
so hard, and when she fails, it's just 
devastating for her. 

Dr. B.: That's right. The older one 
seems to have all the prerogatives. What 
toys does your little one break? 
Sixth Mother: Any he can't play with. 
Dr. B.: Like what? 

Sixth Mother: David, the six-year-old, 
has a set of Indians and cavalry, and 
the little one just hates it. David will 
get it all set up, and my younger one 
will walk in and then kick the whole 
thing over, because he can't play with 
it. Or else it's about books. The little 
one loves to be read to. Yet it makes 
him angry when the other three read, 
and so he tears up their books. It's sort 
of a contradiction to me. He likes me to 
read to him, but not really, or why 
would he be so upset that he doesn't 
know how to read? I don't think he even 
knows what it is yet. 
Seventh Mother: How old are the 

Sixth Mother: David's six; the girls are 
seven and nine. 

Seventh Mother: Do you think a boy 
of six can understand the problem of 
the younger child? I don't have a six- 
year-old yet. I don't really know how 
much they're willing to give of them- 
selves. But maybe he could take certain 
times to play games at the three-year- 
old's level; to make the three-year-old 
feel like he's playing at the six-year-old 

Sixth Mother: They do play together 
some; not a whole lot, but they get 
along pretty well. 

Seventh Mother: Is the six-year-old 

Sixth Mother: Not all the time, but 
he's very easygoing. 
Third Mother: I think they have to be 
an awful lot older though, before we can 
expect them to help very consistently. 
My three boys are enough older than 
my baby, who's four. When everything 
is going well for them, they're willing to 
be a little patient and they handle her 
very well. They really show a great deal 
of insight. Once one of them wanted to 
practice his cornet, and the baby 
pounded on the door because she wanted 
to come in, too. So he brought her in 
and gave her a tin can and a stick, and 
he said, "You play the drums." He 
thought this up all by himself! It's my 
two oldest boys that give us trouble. 
The younger one is terribly jealous of 
the older one. It's been better since the 
oldest is in high school and gone most 
of the time. If you limit the time they're 
together, that's fine. But comes a long 
weekend, or bad weather, or somebody 
sick, and it's trouble. And they're l)ig 
boys, these two. I mean, no matter how 
much you recognize the problem, or 
how much you talk about it, there's a 
limit to their control. And the younger 
one is ho different from the big one, but 
he Htill wanta to do what the big one 

Fifth Mother: I Ihoughl it wiiiiM ease 

ofl when my little one started kinder- 
garten this year. I thought, "She'll have 
kind of a life of her own. This'is her 
room, her teacher, her friend." And, lo 
and behold, on the first day of school, 
the kindergarten teacher was making 
the name tags and put my older daugh- 
ter's name on her. 
Mothers: Oh, no! 

Fifth Mother: I felt so bad for my child 
I didn't know what to do. This was so 
important, and it just kind of got 

Dr. B.: That was unfortunate, of course. 
Fourth Mother: I've had the same ex- 

Fifth Mother: And people say, "Oh, 
you look so much like Dana, you know." 
Mothers; Oh, yes. 

Dr. B.: That's very hard, for the younger 
child to be compared at school with the 

First Mother: Another facet is that the 
older child starts school first, and gets 
the new clothes, and other new things 
he's going to need. You just can't afford 
to buy the same things for the second 
child, which makes the older child special. 
And the younger child says, "Why can't 
I have a snow suit?" 
Dr. B.i Instead of hand-me-downs. 
Fifth Mother: My eight-year-old is 
going into the Brownies, and needed a 
Brownie uniform. I got the uniform, and 
brought something back for the younger 
one, too. She needed a new dress, so I 
got her a dress. But it wasn't absolutely 
necessary that she have it. My husband 
said, "W^ell, you're emphasizing the fact 
that you're trying to make up to the 
little one for getting the big one a 
Brownie uniform. Are you making it 
better, or are you making it worse?" 
Dr. B.: When the older child is jealous, 
there's always the realization that "I 
can do more." And he reallj' can do 
more. So, however angry he may be at 
the baby, because you hold the baby in 
your arms and so on, the fact is he can 
run in the play yard and the baby can- 
not; he can go to kindergarten. But the 
younger child— what good does it do 
him if you tell him that one day he'll be 
grown up and do the same things? If 
he understood that, he could wait. There 
are many ways for the younger one to 
react to pangs of jealousy. The worst is 
that he gives up and accepts that he's 
not as good as the older one. Other 
children tell tall tales in an effort to 
pretend they're as big as, or even bigger 
than, the older one. Then there are 
those who push themselves beyond en- 
durance—and often the older one pro- 
vokes it, either by wanting the younger 
one to be a playmate who can play with 
him on his own level, or by making fun 
of his efforts to keep up. 

All I wanted to stress is how differ- 
ently children can be jealous of each 
other, depending on whether they're 
older or younger; and that in our dis- 
cussions of how hard it is for the older 
one to accept a competitor, we often 
overlook how hard it is to have to com- 
pete with the brother or sister who is so 
far ahead. But neither should we over- 
look that most of the time they play 
well together, particularly when we're 
not around. And if we're aware of how 
difficult tills jealousy is for each of them, 
and can helj) them with it - the older 
one by showing him that he isn't for- 
gotten because of the little one; the 
little one that he isn't inferior because 
he can't keep up then they'll be able 
lo get along Huccessfully together even 
more of the time. END 


Medicine Today 

Good news for the upcoming gen- 
eration of mothers^ (lerman 
measles, long feared by pregnant 
women because it can severely 
damage the unborn child, may 
soon be as preventable as polio. A 
new vaccine, developed by Dr. 
P. D. Parkman and co-workers at 
the National Institutes of Health, 
has imwcd effective and safe in its 
first clinical trial. 

A small number of children were 
injected with the vaccine jirepared 
from live rubella virus that had 
been tamed (attenuated) by grow- 
ing it on monkey and rabbit cells. 
All the children developed protec- 
tive antibodies against the disease 
without showing any signs of ill- 
ness. Most encouraging was the 
finding that, although live rubella 
virus was found in the vaccinated 
children's throat washings, no sus- 
ceptible contacts developed the 
disease. ( Previous vaccines against 
rubella have proved unsatisfac- 
tory because persons in close con- 
tact with recently vaccinated pix- 
tients contracted the disease them- 

I must emi)hasize that further 
studies on larger groups of chil- 
dren will be necessary before the 
vaccine is released for general use. 
Estimates vary, but your doctor 
should have it available for you 
and your family in about 18 
months to two years. 

The now famous birth-control pill 

may well be obsolete witlun a few 
years. In laboratories all over the 
country, researchers are working 
on newer methods of concejition 
control. Planned Parenthood cen- 
ters are already testing a once-a- 
month shot of a "slow injectable," 
a chemical that is absorbed grad- 
ually. Already, they have it slowed 
down even more at the Margaret 
Sanger Clinic in New York City, 
where they are trying an injection 
that lasts for six months. The goal 
is to develop a once-a-year shot. 

The ultimate method, according 
to Dr. Alan F. Guttmacher, pres- 
ident of Planned Parenthood- 
World Population, will be immu- 
nization. He predicts that there 
will eventually be a shot to im- 
munize a woman against male 
sperm for certain periods, or one 
for a man to make his sperm tem- 
porarily inactive. 

An even more startling develop- 
ment is on the farther horizon. In 
five to 10 years women may be 
able to take a "morning-after" 
pill. It could be taken up to six 
days after intercourse and would 
prevent the fertilized ovum from 
implanting in the uterus and be- 
ginning to grow. 

Two such compounds have al- 
ready been used successfully in 
tests with rabbits and monkeys. 
One has been tried in a few 

women — some volunteers and 
some victims of rape. Unfortu- 
nately, it has too many side effects 
to be safe for general use. But the 
other compound, developed by the 
Ortho Research Foundation, has 
been effective and nontoxic in 
rhesus monkeys. Ortho scientists 
have not yet applied to the Food 
and Drug Administration for per- 
mission to conduct trials on peo- 
ple. Every effort is being made to 
make sure that the com])ound 
would not harm a baby if the drug 
were accidentally taken after the 
ovum has already implanted and 
begun to grow. 

Aspirin may do more than ease pain. 

It seems to be a mild tranquilizer 
or anxiety reliever and affects the 
brain's electrical waves in just the 
same way as mild tranquilizing 
drugs, states Dr. Leonide Gold- 
stein of the New Jersey Neuro- 
psycliiatric Institute. 

For families with recurrent infec- 
tions (staphyloccocal boils, ab- 
scesses, impetigo, sinus infections) 
which "ping-ix)ng" back and forth 
among various members of the 
family, there are two new meth- 
ods of treatment. 

The first method, recently re- 
ported by Dr. Marvin Boris and 
co-workers, begins with tempo- 
rarily eradicating the staph germs 
with an antibiotic. (Staph can be 
wiped out for a short period, but 
the infections usually recur as 
soon as the antibiotic is stopped or 
the staiih develops a resistance to 
the antibiotic. » During that short 
period tlie patient is deliberately 
given a different and harmless 
strain of staphylococcus by nasal 
swab or sj^ray. For reasons not yet 
understood, only one strain of 
sta])h can live in the human body 
at one time, so the harmless strain 
sits quietly, causing no problems, 
and preventing harmful, disease- 
producing strains of staph from 
regaining the battleground. 

Dr. Benjamin Kagan of Cedars 
of Lebanon Hospital in Los An- 
geles has also been obtaining 
equally good results treating re- 
current staph infections in fam- 
ilies, but by a different method. 
He recommends treatment for ev- 
eryone in the family. He even in- 
cludes dogs and cats since they are 
capable of harboring staph in the 
nasal passages. First the family 
receives a 10-day course of one of 
the penicillins. This is then fol- 
lowed by an eight-day course of 
one of the tetracyclines. The sec- 
ond course of different antibiotics 
mops up any staph that has be- 
come penicillin-resistant. Along 
with the medical treatment, Dr. 
Kagan recommends that the fam- 
ily laundry receive special han- 
dling by drying in ultraviolet- 

By Phyllis Wright, M.D., with Victor Cohn 


wnip n Uhii 

Spumoni Mold 

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1 package Whip 'n Chiil 
Vanilla Dessert Mix 

Va teaspoon vanilla 

2 tablespoons chocolate syrup 

■A cup chopped maraschino 

2 tablespoons toasted, 

slivered, blanched almonds 

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Then chill until mixture mounds — about 10 minutes. Mea- 
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remaining vanilla dessert, leaving a space in 
center. Fill center with reserved 
chocolate mixture; top with remain- 
ing vanilla dessert. Freeze 6 hours 
or more. Serve with chocolate 
syrup, if desired. Makes 5 servings. 


Another rich but light Whip 'n Chiil df , 

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Mail 25C and two box tops to "Recipe Book," Box 1418, Kankakee, Illinois. 

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Medical studies now suggest great possible advantages for everif mem- 
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lighted dryers or hanging in the 
sunhght. Staph can Hve several 
weeks in bed Hnens and remain a 
potential source of reinfection. 
The majority of famihes who have 
followed this regimen have re- 
mained staph-free. 

The "other breast" is receiving 
more and more attention from 
doctors who treat breast cancer. 
Every patient about to have breast 
surgery should have a mammo- 
gram or X ray of the opposite, 
"healthy" breast as well as regu- 
lar breast X rays thereafter, doc- 
tors now agree. 

A New York City surgeon 
would go further. Biopsy or sur- 
gical exploration of the opposite 
breast should be "routine" at the 
same time as cancer surgery, 
maintains Dr. Jerome Urban of 
Memorial Hospital. Cancer ac- 
tually develops in the second 
breast in no more than seven to 10 
cases in 100 (statistics differ in 
various studies). But it's particu- 
larly likely when the first breast 
had multiple tumors. 

Moreover, when your doctor 
gives you a routine examination 
for breast cancer, he should check 
you in two positions, erect and ly- 
ing down, states Dr. Arthur Hol- 
leb of Memorial Hospital. He tells 
doctors in a medical publication 
that "a superficial and rapid ex- 
amination of the breast with the 
patient sitting will often miss 
tumors of considerable size." 

A flourishing and alarming black 
market is reported in injection of 
liquid silicone to build up small 
breasts. For some time some rep- 
utable plastic surgeons have been 
inserting silicone rubber forms 
filled with silicone gel beneath the 
breasts of the women who feel 
they must be more bosomy. This 
can be considered medically ac- 
ceptable by some doctors in cer- 
tain cases, though many doctors 
dislike the idea of introducing any- 
thing artificial inside the body 
except for vital medical reasons. 

What is new is the injection of 
liquid silicone with a hypodermic 
syringe in an unethical doctor's 
office. This use of liquid silicone is 
currently forbidden by the Food 
and Drug Administration except 
in a small number of carefully con- 
trolled research projects. The in- 
jections can mask early signs of 
cancer and make cancer detection 
impossible. Also, liquid silicone 
has a tendency to spread, and no 
one knows how it will affect in- 
jected breasts in future years. In- 
deed, they may become unshapely. 
Doctors have also seen the skin of 
some such breasts become severely 

Even two deaths have been 
rei^orted following injection of 
"some kind of liquid silicone" into 
breasts, possibly because the 
black-market injector used indus- 
trial-grade silicone fluid rather 
than medical-grade fluid. 

Ncvertiieless, rei)()rts Medical 
World News: "All over the U.S., 
esiKcially in the West, women by 

the hundreds are havitig thei 
selves reshaped by injections. . 
Many fly to California or L 
Vegas, where the black mark 
flourishes. Experts estimate th 
no fewer than 75 M.D.'s in tl 
Los Angeles area give the trea 
ment, and one plastic surgeon sa 
he does 25 per week." 

When a couple's Inability to ha 
children is caused by the hu 
band's having few or weak sperr 
there may be help with a ne 
technique developed at the Un 
versity of Michigan. There. D 
S. J. Behrman has proved the 
sperm can be frozen for more tha 
two years and that it can sti 
make women pregnant. 

"We can collect the husband 
sperm, sort out the strong one 
and freeze-store them," Dr. Belli 
man explains. "After several co! 
lections, we have seminal fluii 
equivalent to that of a highly fei 
tile man, and we can inseminat 
the wife." 

Also, in the case of a husban( 
who is about to undergo surgei ; 
that might destroy his reproduc 
tive capacity, the Michigan doc 
tors can collect his sperm ahead c 
time and store it, apparently in 
definitely, to be used later whei 
the couple desires a child. 

Dr. Behrman and his associate 
have tried this technique with 4 
couples. They have not had a per 
feet record; only 40 percent of the 
women became pregnant. Never 
theless, the results are considered 

Dr. Behrman's methods yield 
still another advantage: "For the 
first time we are able to stud\ 
sperm in detail over weeks and 
months. Even the healthiest sperm 
is dead and lost to study in about 
24 hours if it is not frozen." 

Now that many of us are about to 
dash off on summer vacation trips, 
I'd like to call your attention to a 
new and helpful book for travel- 
ers. The Traveler's Health Guide 
by Drs. B. H. Kean and Harold 
Tucker is designed to help you 
cope with everything from cholera 
shots to what to feed the baby en 
route. Another helpful travel aid 
is the "Medical Passport," a doc- 
ument to be filled out by your 
doctor, useful to have even if you 
stay home. It makes readily avail- 
able, in case of emergency, accu- 
rate details of your past and pres- 
ent medical health status. A new 
pediatric version, called "The 
Medical Passport for the Child," 
has just been developed. Besides 
including a past medical history 
and up-to-date copies of immuni- 
zation records, the medical pass- 
port contains copies of all recent 
laboratory, X-ray and electro- 
cardiogram reports. It comes in a 
I)lastic portfolio that can be used 
to hold your regular ])assi)ort, in- 
ternational vaccination certificate 
and travel tickets. 

For more information, write to 
Medical I'assi)()rt Foundafion, 35 
East ()9th Street. New York, N. Y. 

10021. END 


"Then this marvelous thing 

the pain was gone!" 

"My headaches come from tension or exhaustion," Mrs. 
Frances Cipriano told us. "With four children, at times there's 
a steady pace— trying to make all the hours fit into the day. 

"I remember trying Excedrin' about two years ago. I took 
some, and then this marvelous thing happened: the pain was 

"So I've been using it ever since. When I feel a headache 

coming on, I just reach for the Excedrin and go on about my 
work. I'm not even aware of the pain going away. . . all of a 
sudden I feel just great!" 

If you want fast and thorough pain relief, try Excedrin. 
Tablet for tablet, it's 50% stronger than aspirin for relief of 
headache pain. 

Excedrin analgesic tablets— the extra-strength pain reliever'^ 

© 1966 Bristol-Myers Company 



The first thing you may notice is scratching when he 
doesn't have fleas. Or maybe a dull, brittle coat. Both 
are often early signs of diet deficiencies that can lead 
to more serious problems. Now, from Pet'm* Labora- 
tories, comes new Pet'm Coat and Skin Daily Food 
Supplement to help guard against these diet deficien- 
cies. It supplies essential polyunsaturated fatty acids 
and vitamins that even canned and packaged foods 

may lack. Vital nutrients pets need every day for 
bright, glowing coats and healthy skin. 

Just squirt new Pet'm Coat and Skin Supplement 
on your pet's food. It's that easy. Dogs like the flavor. 
Cats, too. So give your pet a chance at the coat and 
skin he could be showing. One bottle lasts the average 
dog for thirty days. Then, if your pet doesn't look bet- 
ter and scratch less, we'll give you your money back. 

Just mail us the empty bottle. What can you lose? 
Nothing but your dog's dull coat and dry, itchy skin. 
If new Pet'm Coat and Skin Supplement doesn't help, 
the problem may not be diet deficiencies and your 
veterinarian should be consulted. 

Start your pet on new Pet'm Coat and Skin Daily 
Food Supplement. 

Now at your drugstore. If you love your pet, Pet'm. 

HElpS FiQHldull COATS 

ANddRy, ircHyskiN 


For a 

27" by 13" color print 
of the Pet'm dogs, 
suitable for frsmlng. 
send 50< and your name 
and address to: 
Picture Offer. 
Dept LH. 
Box 8SS8. 

Ptiiladelphla. Pa 19101 

n the art world, 
lonkeys have been 
onning smocks 
nd turning out 
bstract paintings 
:)r years. Not to be 
■utdone by the sim- 
an species, now 
logs, cats and birds 
lave jumped feet 
irst into the water- 
:olor medium. The 
atest fad in West 
German art shows 
s pet painting. The 
)wner dips his pet's 
jaws in the paint, 
:hen lets him run loose on canvas. 

he German Society for the Preven- 
tion of Cruelty to Animals has 
tudied this creative process and 
ruled that pet art work is humane 
s long as the animals are proiK-rly 
leaned after each session and pro- 
ided the artist is not forced to 
jaint for more than half an hour at 
sitting. Abstract art may be 
amped out yet. 

Want a pet that eats grass, plays 
f(X)tball, and may grow to be eight 
feet tall? Nora Russell, owner of a 
farm near Melbourne, Australia, is 
training kangarcxis for e.\ix)rt to pet 
hops. She claims that kangaroos 
re intelligent, gentle, and make 
leal i^ets. Her No. 1 exhibit is a 
roo named Bouncer, who can kick 
and catch a football. Trainer Rus- 
sell's kangarcx) Ixxim hasn't gotten 
off the ground yet, but when it 
does, better stand back! 

You don't have to be a penguin ^ 

or an Eskimo— to live in an igloo. 
You don't even have to live at the 
North Pole. Aero-Glass Corp.. in 
Atlanta, Ga.. has just introduced an 
igloo guaranteed to last a lifetime. 
It's a dog house made of fiberglass 
that won't rot, won't break if you 
climb on it, and won't melt. S'ou 
can wash it out with a hose, and the 
house is permeated with the smell of 
cedar for the owner's enjoyment. 
The igloo comes in snow color, but 
you can order any color you want 
for $5 extra. There are four sizes: 
$22.50 for the smallest and S87.50 
for the extra-large Husky size. 

Here's a book for animal lovers ev- 
erywhere— dog. rabbit, fish, ferret, 
beaver, cheetah, and other lovers— 
Bears in the Ladies' Room and Other 
Beastly Pursuits (Doubleday, ■S4.50). 
Author Bil Gilbert calls himself an 
"animalcoholic" who legitimately 
inherited his inability to resist 
beasts from a long line of ancestors 
going back to his great-great-great- 
grandfather, who returned from the 
Lewis and Clark expedition with a 
pet grizzly bear. Gilbert had his own 
bear, as well as a menagerie made 
up of any other creature that his 
wife couldn't keep him from adopt- 
ing. The title story begins a string 
of hilarious accounts that includes 
Gilbert teaching a cheetah (the 
fastest mammal alive) how to run, 
teaching a ferret (a natural hunter) 
how to hunt, and unbuilding beaver 
dams, to the dismay of a lot of 
beavers. In some unbeastly pur- 
suits. Gilbert makes mushroom- 
hunting sound like an African safari 
and canoeing like an Olympic con- 

test. Then, back to 
animals, there's a 
fascinating chapter 
all about how to 
entertain bored city 
guests by tracing 
bees back to the 
hives to get their 
honey. First, you 
catch a bee . . . 

Well, better read 
the book — it's de- 
lightful, and there's 
hardly a tame mo- 
ment in it. 


The latest word on 

just what is a dog's life comes from 
England. Metal Utilities, Ltd. de- 
veloped an electrically heated fiber- 
glass dog basket to give the best in 
postoperative care to dogs that 
had undergone surgery. Then what 
do you think happened? Dog 
owners, feeling a little guilty, snug 
under their own electric blankets on 
those cold, foggy nights, started 
buying the basket for healthy pam- 
pered pu])s. The basket comes in a 
variety of colors, costs from $14 to 
$56. depending on size, and provides 
all the comforts of central heating 
for Fido. 

Here's another warning for would- 
be wiki-animal owners. Cliff Gor- 
man, who is currently featured in 
the off-Broadway hit. Hogan's Goat 
(there are no goats in the show), 
raised an African lion cub named 
Leone in his Manhattan apartment 
for eight months. The neighbors 
complained, and he finally had to 
sell the cub to a New Jersey zoo. 
Gorman used to take Leone with 
him when he went for interviews at 
theatrical agencies. He claims he 
never received more courteous treat- 
ment. But there was a serious, un- 
expected drawback: The lion stole 
the show and got more jobs than 
his owner. 

A new dog collar now on sale in 
France is brightly illuminated by 16 
tiny transistor-powered lamps. The 
collar was designed to reduce the 
number of night- strolling dogs run 
down bv automobiles. 


liust luu jrunaly uiity can. i iger 
and Rag, posed willinily for Walter 
Chandoha of Annandale, N.J. 

[Do you have a favorite pet picture? 
We would like to see it. Send it to Pet 
News Editor. Ladies' Home Journal, 
641 Lexington Avenue, New York, 
N.Y. 10022.) 


From AppEriiES to parasites 


heIp you TAkE bEHER CARE oF youR doq 




New dietary aid that 
helps guard against dull 
coats and dry, itchy skin. 
Just squirt It on food I 

New detergent bar and 
brush-massager combi- 
nation to worl< up a lather, 
invigorate skin, and hold 
the bar between baths. 



Spray err, a.-. ay between 
baths. Kills fleas, ticks 
and lice; leaves coat 
shining, tool 

New Duffer-pack makes 
it easy to hit those hard 
to reach places where 
parasites hide! 

Lathers freely, even in 
hard water. Leaves coats 
soft and fresh. Unbreak- 
able squeeze bottle. 

Eyes tired 
from reading? 

Take a moment 

...soothe and 
rest your eyes 

How fas t Muri ne goes to work! 
Its gentle comfort mstantly 
refreshes your eyes. Blends 
perfectly witti natural eye fluids. 
Murine is used by millions 
whenever eyes feel 
discomfort from driving, TV. 
smoke, dust, sleep 
an'l other cause-;. 



Hanrly n«w frqu«re/* 
t>ottl«. AI«o fL\B%\ 
\iO\\\*i /'>»h dropper 


Switchable hair, flamboyant eyes : How to 
make these quick summer beauty changes . 

Whether your hair is 
long or short, a 
Dynel switch can 
makea difference. 
Wear it blunt-cut 
and straight, 
braid it, buy an 
extra one to wear 
as bangs when you ' re 
in the mood. For 
a long-hair look 
with lots of 
height from hair- 
line to crown, 
comb your own 
front hair over a "rat," attach switch 
at crown. More ideas: Tie on tiny bows, 
attach fake flowers with eyelash glue. 
The Kenneth Salon has switches in nine 
colors. Send a sample of your hair to 
19 E. 54th St., N.Y.C., $4.50. Tovar 
Tresses will custom-blend a switch, $15; 
at their counters in department stores. 

Make these 
eyes: Top: 


brush blue 
cake shadow on center lid 
to brow; use pink shadow 
to corners. Dot bottom 
lid and line upper lid 
with blue liquid liner. 
Center: Pink shadow 
under brow; violet 
shadow where lid 
creases; powdered sap- 
phire-blue shadow on 
lid. Circle eye as shown, with blue 
pencil. Bottom: yellow shadow under 
brow; green cream shadow where lid 
creases; emerald powder shadow on lid. 
Dot dark olive liquid liner along lower 
lashes, draw fine line along lower lashes. 

Another quick 
change , good for the 
girl with short, 
clippedhair , a Dynel 
wiglet like the one 
at right . ' ' Cameo, ' ' 
by David & David, 
in 24 colors, $5 
(available in de- 
partment stores). 

Shoppinii Information for nyo makaup on paKo ^4 





The Borden Co. 

Depl. LH76. Box 451. Jersey City. N.J. 07303 

^ ^^^^^ send me a copy of "Magic B 
p!^^ dozens of desserls I can easily 

: 3S 

mwl Wasses that look too expensive 
to come in a box of detergent... 



I^.^'^^'i/'^^^/. can rww own a whole set of sturmjng smoke»,v /vv /-^^^^ 
tirrted cry:>.] - /^'V-r. rjesign. Gfass<?s that give any • ' T ' - 

table s^. >hion. Yours exclusively in new DtJZ. / 

tit-// rifeavy-duty Duz now ha* a brand new brightening booster that actually [ 
getsclothes brighter and brighter, wash afte(;v/ash. \ I J V 7V 7 

A clean fresh look for your Wash. A clean fresh look tor your tafci^ with a set .^ti^mm ^mm 

>eautifu» crystal glasses. Discover them both in new Dpz! Juice glass, goblet, tumbler, iced tea glass -collect a whole set. 



Ladies' Home Jottrnal j July, 1966 

"/ never expected widowhood, yet here it is in this bright room." A record of the private thoughts that built a new life. By Roslyn Rosen 

We always looked forward to the weekends. Sometimes I awake 
on a Saturday morning like this one, surprised to discover that he 
is not breathing beside'me. For whom shall I pour orange juice 
and coffee? With whom shall I talk intimately and share this day? 
The dismay lasts only a moment. I get up, pull open the drapes, 
and the strong light comes in. 

I never expected widowhood, yet here it is in this bright room. 
No woman expects to be a widow, yet most of you who read these 
words will lose your husbands one day. Five hundred thousand 
American women will become widows within the next year, and 
to each it will be a unique and 
separate loss. Some of you will 
accept, some will collapse, and 
some will be outraged. You may 
want to cry out as I did — what 
is wrong with our society? Why 
do we have this terrible waste-* 
Millions of men die too young. 
They die of success and of failure. 
In our great country the poverty 
is outrageous, and the stress on 
wealth is outrageous. We have 
not learned to create order, and 
therefore we are not free. 

Within this vast disorder 1 
have begun to make order for 
myself because I want to live. It 
hasn't been easy. I remember 
coming home months ago and 
facing my locked door, seized by 
panic. My heart started to pound 
because I was sure I had left my 
key in the house. I searched my 
purse, returned to my car, looked 
everywhere, emptied my purse 
on the front seat— and there was 
my key. 

The panic lasted for hours. I 
kept losing things and getting 
frantic about them, for I had lost 
what I valued most. I left my bed 
unmade, drawers pulled out, 
papers strewn about. The rest of 
my house was far too neat, but 
my room was like my mind. One 
night when I returned to the 
turmoil I went to sleep in my younger son's room. It was tidy, as 
it never had been before my two boys went off to college. Now I 
have returned to the room my husband and I shared, because the 
pain is not as great. Perhaps someday I'll leave this home. Now I 
must stay. I love the air and walls of this house. 

What can I tell you women to whom this violence has or will 
come? I can say that people will be unbelievably good to you when 
it happens. They will help you to talk. They will bring in cooked 
food and do your dishes. They will visit in crowds, buoy you up 
and exhaust you. At times you will have to leave them and rest. 

Photograph by Jay Maisel 

Later you must be able to telephone these friends and tell them 
when you need them. 

If your children are with you during the first weeks, they will 
come in the night when you weep and hold your hands. They are 
part of their father, and will give you some peace. Most children 
will suffer deeply and will recover before you do. It will help 
them to be exposed to death and grief and the solace of friendship. 
They are being prepared for what'you are facing now. 

One of my sons was troubled in the beginning by his father's 
clothes. After a while both boys would come to our room and 

take his ties, wear his cuff links, 
his sport shirts. In our religion 
it is considered a mitxyah — a 
blessing — for children to use the 
belongings of the parents. Our 
sons had a generous, loving 
father. The things they have 
chosen to keep will give them 

Clothes play a strange part in 
the mourning. Often I went to 
his clothes and touched them, 
because sometimes it is difficult 
to cry. Now I have given them 
to charity, because I don't want 
to live a fantasy life. 

Mourning is the limbo be- 
tween holding on and letting go. 
My husband would want his 
clothes to be used. He was a big, 
attractive man who enjoyed life. 
I still laugh at his jokes, at the 
time he saw the critics at a con- 
cert and leaned over to whisper 
to me, ■ T can hardly wait for the 
morning papers to find out 
whether I enjoyed myself." 

I have a million memories — 
the long evenings when he was 
away on business trips, and sud- 
denly the telephone would ring 
and there was his voice and we 
were together. "Well, Roz, " he 
would say before he hung up, 
"now you take care of your- 
self." He never said good-bye. 
You women whose husbands die will find that the confidence 
gained from a good marriage will help you to recover. Gradually 
your old habits of living will return. Fo'od has a tranquilizing 
effect, and now when my panic returns I stop for tea or coffee. A 
waitress serves me and smiles. More people seem to smile at me 
these days, perhaps because I need them, or maybe I never noticed 
before. I sit over coffee, and the bad moment passes. It's difficult 
to eat alone. It would also be easy to become a professional waif. 
In the beginning I accepted every invitation to dinner, finding 
pleasure in the children and the - (continued on page 101) 


Vhe ^Jmprobabte 
'Mvate'Ufe of Mrs. 

"Johnny is the universe. 
Joanne orbits." An intimate look into the life of 
TV's loneliest star. By GAEL GREE.\E 

Eeny, meeny, miney, mo. There are three doors to the Johnny Carson apartment. You tap at the 
middle. It opens a tentative crack. "The carpets are drying," says the shoeless housekeeper. "Knock one 
door to your left." That door is opened by what appears to be a refugee from Hullabaloo padding about 
in wool bobby sox with gingham shirt tails flying and a less-than-committed ponytail. "Excuse the chaos," 
apologizes Mrs. Johnny Carson, brushing off a pup's flying tackle. 

It was a corner of chaos. Johnny's den. A forest of upended tables, disconnected lamps and 
orphaned sofa cushions, cartons of books, a sawed-off butcher's block ("That was Johnny'^ idea— it's 
the living-room coffee table") and, wedged in the middle, a kingsize oasis of crisp white linen and olive- 
green electrified mohair— the displaced bed. "We're stuck here till the carpets dry," Joanne Carson said. 
"And Annie is confined to the kitchen. Let me get rid of the girls," she said, dispatching Fluffy (a present 
from Johnny to Joanne) and Muffin (Joanne to Johnny) across the acres of damp beige forest of wall-to- 
wall plush for a supper of ground round, kibble and bacon ("Bacon for flavor and a pretty coat"). "We're 
sending both girls to remedial paper-training school," Joanne announced. "What do they know from 
carpets and grass." She sighed. 

She crawled mid-bed, folded her legs Indian style, a waif with running nose in a setting of custom- 
order Spanish elegance. Gidget Goes El Greco. "I suppose I ought to be wearing a hostess gown," she 
said, smoothing wrinkled khaki slacks. "I couldn't even get at my makeup. I was lucky to scrounge up 
this old hairbrush." She grinned, a fragile, fresh, clean-scrubbed teen-ager of 34 ("Why don't you say 
thirty-two— Johnny likes to think I'm thirty-two") with freckles and pale, heart-shaped face, wide mouth, 
giant eyes. A hyperactive flyweight, five-feet-two, 97 pounds, forcing down orange juice spiked with raw 
egg and ice cream, trying to hit 101. 

The phone rang. "Pick it up, it's your husband," yelled the housekeeper. "That means it's five-thirty," 
Joanne said, reaching for the phone. "We're camping out," she warned Johnny. He would be late tonight. 
He was doing a benefit. "I'll leave a beacon so you won't fall over the furniture," she promised. 

"He always calls at five-thirty," she said. "Just when I need a pickup. It's like candy to a track star." 

A benefit might be fun. Why not go along? "He's working," she said. "Your husband doesn't take you 

Photograoht b/ Robert yr non 

Ihv ( .firmm lintnr has imr prival^' ronirr for Joiinnv. Ih-r hunhantl tails il I In- "siiiiirrrl's iiomI." 


to work, does he?" Joanne would adore sit- 
ting in the studio audience of The Tonight 
Show five nights a week. "But it would bother 
him." When Johnny is moonlighting for 
S40,000 a week at the Sahara in Las Vegas, 
there's a booth reserved for the star's en- 
tourage. But Joanne usually stays at their 
newVegas retreat. "They turn away thousands 
of people every night. If I go, I deprive people 
of the chance to see my husband. I stay home 
and pull crabgrass. It's a personal fight. I can't 
wait to get up in the morning and get at 
that crabgrass." 

Talk about poverty programs. Joanne 
Carson doesn't even get to watch The To- 
nigh f Show. "He lets me watch the mono- 
l(>gue . . . then we switch to The Late Show. . . 
or maybe watch Merv Griffin." 

Johnny Carson is the universe. Joanne 
orbits. "I'm so thankful he married me," she 
w ill say at least once in any conversation, as 
if, after almost three years of being Mrs. 
Johnny Carson, she still can't quite believe 
it. "I would have been a very unhappy per- 
son if he hadn't. I would have waited around 
for him outside stage doors and followed 
him and written fan letters. He made me 
alive and opened a whole new world for me." 

One small orange-accented niche in that 
world is enough for Joanne. The "Squirrel s 
Nest," her husband calls it, a warren of un- 
organizable clutter. The rest of the place is 

The (.arson.'' >larted out 
in a V/i-roam apartment 
{top left). uraditaUy 
annexed tiro more 
apartments so ttial they note 
lire in "the sprairlinsest 
elevated ranch house in 
mid- Manhat tan ." 
.ilthoimh Johnny often 
dines on milk and 
self -popped popcorn, 
they have three kitchens. 

"I'm so thankful he married 
me." says Joanne {left), 
ntill almoft unbelieving. 

Johnny is a sreat kidder. 
{top rieht). but not 
trhen he happens to 
get tired of it {bottom). 

Joanne and Johnny !>o 
out no more lliati 
once or tu ire u niontli. 
"I don't like to share my 
husband,'^ she says. 

Joanne lilies to ivateh Tf, 
hnt Johnny tt ill h-l her 
see only the monolotme 
opeitinii «)/ Tlu' 'r<>iii^lit 
Slum. I'hey often 
sivileh to The ImIv Show. 

pure Johnny, Joanne's concept. Massive 
Spanish doors and great slabs of artfully 
antiqued counters (Joanne aged them her- 
self with chisel, gouge, chains and blowtorch 
after studying wood-rotting in the furniture 
archives of the Metropolitan Museum) . . . 
barn beams imported from New Jersey, a 
zebra rug ... his own fur-carpeted dress- 
ing room with sun lamp and wall-to-wall 
closets ... his bar, his towering wine rack 
("Not that we really care for wine — we just 
like the look of a wine rack") . . . brown 
walls, everything massive and masculine. 

"The theme," says Joanne, "is Johnny." 

From the original honeymoon 4i _>, the 
Carsons have expanded north, breaking 
through into a vacant 2 ' 2, and south, annex- 
ing a subsequeniy available 3 '2. That gives 
them nine ro(7-is and three half rooms — 
three of them kitchens. Now they have their 
eyes on an adjoining four-room apartment 
soon to be vacated. It will be the sprawling- 
cst elevated ranch house in midtown Man- 
hattan. Johnny's three sons by his earlier 
marriage would have their own suite. Be- 
sides, the Carsons can always use more 
closet space for Johnny's toys — his flying 

gear and archery equipment, his targets, golf 
clubs. Great Books, back-date magazines, 
his home-movie equipment and video tape 
recorder, his drums and guitar, the fencing 
foils, water and land skis, his scuba gear. 

Johnny Carson is a loner. The "things" 
in his life protect him from people. "Things" 
he can handle. Outside, eight floors below, 
flows the grimy East River with a Sunshine 
Biscuit sign on the horizon and in the fore- 
ground an ever-revolving flying red horse. 
There might as well be a moat. 

There are 42 pairs of slacks in Joanne's 
closet. And one long crepe gown. An ac- 
curate reflection of the Carsons' social life. 
"Our private life is completely at home," 
says Joanne. "1 enjoy my husband. I don't 
like to share him with anyone." 

The Carsons run on highly unsynchro- 
nized metabolisms. By the time Joanne stag- 
gers out of their houndstooth-check accented 
bedroom at 1 1, her husband has been up for 
hours,"" combing the morning papers for 
monologue material, walking the pups, sip- 
ping instant coffee. "Sometimes I can't find 
him ... the bedroom is so far away from 
everything. So I ( continued on page 100 ) 


Mark thought that he 
was embarking on the most 
dazzling adventure of his 
life. His mother, recalling her 
own childhood, knew 
better. Should she 
protect him? Or let him 
risk heartbreak? 


Mark is six, and he is going to the moon next week if I let him use 
the two dollars he got for his birthday to buy supplies, and if he is 
allowed to spend every day working like a small, sunburned Troja^i 
in the Kipplingers' backyard. 

Tomorrow is the Sunday-school picnic he has been looking forward 
to, but now he is begging to stay home and work on the rocket. Under 
the sunburn his face is pale with pleading and exhaustion. He has two 
long scratches on his arm, and I have had to remove a deep splinter 
from his palm, during which operation he did not cry. Spacemen never 

cry over service-inflicted wounds. Now, however, his brown eyes are 
enormous and, from the sheer weight of earnestness, they are ready 
to fill with tears. 

"Please, Mom, I gotta be there tomorrow. Nobody gets to ride in 
the rocket unless he works on it every day," he says. "And just the 
big guys get to help. Pete and Stoney and me." (Pete and Stoney are 
also six.) Then his voice hushes with awe. "And Kip and Joe and Bart 
Logan and Whitey Paulson." (Kip and Joe Kipplinger are older men 
of nine and ten, and so are Bart and Whitey.) "But Tim and Fred 

Illustration by Roger Hanes 

and Jimmy are too little. All they'd do is just get in our way." 

I suspect meanly that, at three and four, Tim and Fred and Jimmy 
don't have two dollars, and I wonder what project the Kipplingers 
are privately financing with the money gouged out of Mark, Pete and 
Stoney. I have seen the rocket, and I have seen the pile of lumber left 
over from the carport Mr. Kipplinger built this spring, so I am sure 
they are not going to use the money for supplies. 

"What are you going to use for fuel?" I ask innocently, but with 
a devious hope in my heart that Kip , „ (continued on page 92) 





It's impossible to 
be lonely in 
this swinging 


Jan Hyland (below, 
second from right) 
enjoys the whirlpool. 

By GAEL GREENE □ Janet H>land is a sweet 
young lady who is learning to be a swinger. And 
she is swinging — in her own little way. In Los An- 
geles, where women grow more lush than the bou- 
gainvillaea — and outnumber men to a dismaying 
extent — this highly proper, slightly underfed kin- 
dergarten teacher, recently arrived at the panic 
side of 25, currently commands the attention of 
more men than she quite knows what to do with. 

Some women are born to drive men mad. Not 
by any stretch of the imagination would you be 
likely to number Janet Hyland among them. Those 
vulnerable blue eyes . . . the gently bouffant 
frame of taffy hair , . . the flushed translucent 
skin. This is no face to launch a thousand ships. 
It is a face to sell one-step floor wax in a TV com- 
mercial; it could pass for 17, and you wouldn't be 
surprised if you opened your door and found it 
there, above a bright green uniform, trying to sell 
you Girl Scout cookies. 

The for(;e that tinned this schoolteacher into a 
fledgling Scarlett O'llara is the. South Hay Club, 
about the last place you would choose for a Girl 
Scout convention. The South Bay Club, in the 
sprawling Los Angeles suburb of Torrance, is a 
"For Single Adults Only" apartment-house com- 
plex with two swimming pools (one of them 
heated), an outdoor whirlpool, three tennis courts 
and a live-in tennis pro, two gyms, two saunas, a 
plushly carpeted billiard parlor, and a breathlessly 
unceasing round of barbecues, hootenannys, cos- 
tume balls, pot-luck sup[)tMs, tennis. Scrabble and 
bridge torn iiamcnis, and all sorts ol intellectual 
and athletic mingling of the sexes, organized and 

Imagine a Big Ten homecoming weekend set on 
a Caribbean cruise ship. That, sort of, is the South 
Bay Club, a live-in bachelor plavground, one of a 
new species of spc^cialized housing that caters to 
the most neglected segment of our family-oriented 
population. Moving in can be a dizzying experi- 
ence for a girl. It's a little like setting up house- 
keeping in the middle of a fraternity house. All 
those men everywhere. Bronzed crew cuts in 
tennis whites. Baby-faced sun worshipers in trop- 
ical wrap-arounds, llnknow n toes touching across 
the iiitime circle of the whirling Jacuzzi. A cluster 
of dedicated girl-watchers hanging around the 
office to case the newcomers as they register. 

Everywhere, an open door means "come in." 
Parties are ad-libbed at any hour. Walking across 
the courtyard from laundry to garage is like audi- 
tioning for the Copacabana chorus line, and South 
Bay's female tenants know it. They put on full 
makeup, false eyelashes and provocative play- 
clothes just to walk down the hall to empty the 
trash. "I wouldn't dream of going out in rollers,'' 
says Janet. "Absolutely never." This resolution 
means Jan gets up at 6 a.m. once or twice a week 
to set and dry her hair in S.B.C.'s do-it-yourself 
beauty salon. 

South Bay has survived its first year. It has 
even weathered a "Roman Orgy" scandal — appli- 
cants in congenial groups of eight were invited, by 
a slickly produced solicitation on a very official- 
looking letterhead slipped under club doors, to 
eat cheese, sip wine (in the reclining position) 
and be fed grapes (peeling optional). It was an in- 
nocent spoof dreamed up by a couple of South 
Bay bachelors. They decided to carry the joke one 
step further and petitioned the city for a license, 
and thereby prompting headlines in the commu- 
nity daily: "Bacchanalian Doings at Hip South 

Bay Club." Several distaff South Bayans were 
not at all amused. 

A memorable year. Uncounted engagements. 
Eight or nine marriages. The club had even been 
raided. "It was the Valentine's Day Massacre," 
one observer reported. "The police swooped on a 
club party and confiscated almost $300 in cash 
and liquor. We didn't know you needed a license 
to charge for drinks." 

To mark the first anniversary, the management 
threw a "semiformal" dinner dance in the party 
room. In California that means ties for men, shoes 
for girls. Manager Ludmilla Duda, a former 
Czechoslovakian who was once a hostess-house- 
keeper for Tyrone Power, insisted on baking 
banana bread, ham loaves and cheesecake. 

Jan Hyland anticipated the evening with char- 
acteristic butterflies and a hangover of a wall- 
flower complex. "I hate big parties. The worst 
part is walking in alone," she decided, and 
promptly enlisted a neighbor as escort. 

It was a typical South Bay turnout: three men 
for every girl. The activities director (please don't 
call her social director) says, "We do anything 
to get girls in here. We even let them stay four 
in a two-bedroom unit. The trouble is our boys 
all love the place, and tell their friends. The girls 
love it, too, but they don't tell a soul." 

The stag line was restless. In the dim light of 
the pool area, a sultry brunette in orange reached 
for a cigarette. Five lighters and a match burst 
into flame. "War is bell," a frustrated engineer 
cried. "The men here can't aflbrd to be difficult," 
a young lady confided. "There are too few of us." 

The mood of the evening was set for Jan by the 
exuberant young man who greeted her arrival 
with: "Here she is . . . the flower of building 
Number One." For Jan it was a triumph. She 
reviewed the intricacies next morning. To the 
dance with Lon . . . wooed and taken away to a 
bcachside bistro by Don . . . belle of an after-hours 
party where she soothed the wilted Lon and 
simultaneously intrigued the fascinated Don. 
Then, sometime before 4 A.M., off for a nightcap 
with John. (She'd carried her own hot milk across 
the courtyard to John's apartment. He plied her 
with whole-wheat crackers.) She was still a little 
woozy. "I can't quite get my contact lenses in," 
she confided. "Marriage? Oh, not yet. You see, 
all this is too new to me. I haven't had nearly 
enough of a whirl yet." 

Jan is whirling overtime to make up for last 
year's lull, when she was totally stalled as a new 
girl in a town that has a 
way of isolating newcom 
ers. Doomed to streak 
along its unfriendly free- 
ways, young emigrants 
from the East find them- 
selves deprived, as Los 
Angeles magazine puts it, 
of those "aids to human 
gregariousness enjoyed in 
older cities . . . with a sin- 
gle downtown working 
area." Distances are for- 
midable. Girls in Torrance 
know, for instance, that 

Jan enjoys a stroll 
along the beach. "Mar- 
riage?'' she asks. "Oh, not 
yet. Fm having a tchirl!" 

to any but the most devoted (or desperate) \\ r.>t 
Los Angeles or Burbank bachelor, they are 
strictly G.U. (Geographically Undesirable). 

In their sparsely furnished oceanside digs, 
Jan and her roommate, Mary Jo Wohlgemutli, 
felt old age and spinsterhood creeping in. Mary 
Jo was ready to call it quits and return to Chicago. 
"We used to sit around and tease each other about 
how we'd still be sitting home together at forty 
doing our laundry on Satiirday nights," Jan 
recalls, "but I wouldn't give up. It was a matter 
of pride. I knew it was only a question of time 
before I would find a place where I'd fit in." 

What must seem slightly incredible to the folks 
back home in the well-to-do Chicago suburb of 
Hinsdale is that a "swinging apartment for hip 
singles" should be that place. 

The senior Hylands — Don and Lee — and their 
offspring, Clark, 27, Jan, 25, Vern, 24, are warm 
and sociable.iBoys who might drop by to see Jan 
or Vern seemed content to hang around playing 
with the dog, Cindy, and chatting with Mrs. 
Hyland. The Hylands are fun but not gung ho. 
And Jan, fey, uninhibited and a little bit kooky, 
yet always reserved, serious, shy, is about as 
unhip as a contemporary girl can be. She is a 
complex combination of intelligence and naivete, 
obedience and stubborn independence. By stark 
contrast. South Bay is like a scenario for a Tues- 
day Weld movie. Yet when someone once asked 
Jan what star she would cast as herself, she 
snapped back quickly, "Greer Garson." And an 
S.B.C. doctor-bachelor admirer put it this way: 
"She's so incredibly feminine she makes you feel 
immensely masculine. . . . And she's really so 
ladylike, it's . . . it's almost quaint." 

Janet does seem a bit quaint. Anyway, she is 
the kind of girl we have been assured no longer 
exists in this era of Cool Nihilism. She is a con- 
servative who stands on her principles: Broke 
last summer and forced to choose between a $21- 
a-week nursery-school job or f35-a-week unem- 
ployment insurance, she took the job. It meant 
working five mornings a week and forgoing full- 
time loafing by the pool, but she says, "I kept my 

Jan has other virtues many of us have been 
learning to live without: a sense of community 
responsibility (she gets up each Sunday at seven 
to spend the morning as a volunteer in a pediatrics 
ward because . . . "Well, I like children, especially 
the littlest ones") ; and the conscience of a pro- 
fessional (she hopes (continued on page 110) 



Look like 
a million for 
less than 

All that glitters 
doesn't necessarily cost 
a fortune — even 
when it's worth it. 
Consider these 
fabulous sequined 
dresses. This much 
fashion would cost you 
about $500 (each) 
in the stores. But 
you can make one or 
both — they're easy: sequins 
are crocheted in as you 
go— for under $20 a dress. 
So start now. Make it a 
summertime project, and have 
your millionairess dress 
ready for the first great 
party of the fall. 

Opposite: double- 
crocheted dress with deep 
V hack costs $i 1.56 
to make (4 skeins of yarn, 
$')-'>(y, y packages of 
sequins, $6). Earrings, 
Mimi di N. This page: 
iridescent halter 
dress costs $16.68 to 
make (12 skeins of 
yarn $4.68; 6 packages 
of sequins, $12). 
Earrings, CastleclifF. 
To order directions 
for making both dresses 
(and sweater on our 
cover) turn to page 100. 
All yarn hy Coats 6? Clark; 
sequins hy Sol Kahaner. 


By Nora O'Leary, Patterns Editor 

Ptiotosrapht by Bill Helburn 

Behind every glamorous tvoman 

there is a hairdresser, and the President's 

daughter is no exception. Here is 

the inside story of George Masters, 

the artist ivho turned Lynda Bird Johnson 

from a college coed {left) 

into a star who startled the movie colony. 

By Vernon Scott 


eyebrows arched 

lips paled 

hair shaped 

complexion emphasized 

Photograph by Melvin Sokolsky 

A w hite Chevrolet pick- 
up truck stopped one 
afternoon last March in 
front of the Beverly Hills 
mansion where George 
Hamilton, ihemovie star, 
liveH with his mother. 
Out of the cah elirnhed a 
{^fMxi -looking, tall, tanned 
mijn in lii-i late twenties, 
wearing a I iirllenc k hport 
shirt, white denims and 
dark gogghv puslicd into 
his tousled hlorid liair. lie 
lo<<kcd like a Grand i'n\ 

race driver, but in fact he 
was one of America's 
most extraordinary 
tradesmen: a hairdresser 
who has dared to pick a 
fight with FJizabeth Tay- 
\(>r; charged Marilyn 
Monroe S 1,000 for one 
haircut; and once re- 
hjieclfullv re(piesl<*d Au- 
rlre) li<-phurn lo refrain 
(rom Hying across tlnr 
country to hav<' her hair 
done h) liitn. 

i'liih, llien, was (jeorg<' 

Masters, and he had come 
to tackle one of the most 
delicate assignments of a 
star-studded career that 
is escalating his income 
ever closer to the $100,- 
000-a-year mark. 

Within, dressed in a 
robe, with wet hair and 
no niakeu[> ("just like all 
th<; r(;st of my, clienth"), 
waited Lynda liird John- 
Hon, of Washinglon, I ).( 

"Do what you like," 
HUggesled the President's 

daughter, but Masters, 
happily, was far too ex- 
perienced to take her at 
her W'ortl. 

"Lynda didn't say any- 
thing about being afraid 
of her parents' reaction," 
he reports. "I was wor- 
ried, hut not Lynda. I 
could have heen run out 
of {\w country. 

"lJul Lynda was hesi- 
tant ahout lo<» many 
changes in her appear- 
ance, hecause she is still 

a college girl. And college 
girls are still conformists. 
They don't want to be 
loo different from one 
another. I think she was 
frightened ahout 'over- 
doing' her appearance. 
She may be the IVesi- 
<lent's daughter, but she 
is still a coed at the Uni- 
v<Tsity of Texas, and 
lliinks in terms of her 
frien«ls at college." 

It was a forniidahle 
(contirnu'd on pufic lO^y) 


•.auies name journal book nonus • JUiy, Jisbb 


An exciting new writer, in her very first novel, captures the mixed 
joys and despairs of a single girl in New York and in love. Condensed 
in this issue, before book publication. BY MALISSA REDFIELD 

His voice on the telephone is rather attractive, but neutralized 
by a polite, remote manner. We will soon be sijending hours, or even 
days, together, and I try, unsuccessfully, to visualize Philip Bowen. 

A year ago this cool contact would have made me tremble. I 
was, it seemed, an inept impersonator of some stranger who was 
truly capable, as I only pretended to be, of earning a living in the 
teiTible city of New York. Still an impersonator, I am, at least, no 
longer so fearful of being found out. 

"Sarah, you're beginning to look like an authentic New York 
girl," Simon said to me the other day. "I suppose it's a desirable 

A year ago, Simon Greenfield was only a name, attached to 
books and magazine articles. And now, he is someone who evidently 
finds me competent to arrange appointments, conduct interviews, 
and do whatever else he chooses to put to me. Sometimes I catch 
my breath at the thought of the good luck which brought me to 
work for this amusing, intelligent, kindhearted man. 
I am able to talk tranquilly enough, then, with Philip 

Bowen, matching my reserve to his. He has a weighty 
title in a large, famous corporation, but I am used to 
this by now. Simon has a commission to write about 
Arnold Henderson, the head of Philip Bowen's 
company, and it is simply a matter of 
ai-ranging the interviews. 

Our first interview falls on a 
sultry, dispirited September day. The 
gi-eat lobby of Henderson's 
building is stately enough, 
in aggressive modern 
style, to be sobering. On 
the thirty-fifth floor, 
Philip Bowen is 
waiting for us. We 
shake hands, and 
I respond in kind 
to the faintest 
sketch of a bow. I f 
am amused to see 
that Simon is \ 
slightly at a loss. 
We ordinarily en- 
counter, in Philip 
Bowen's role, 
jaunty extroverts 
to whom we are in- 
clined to feel the least 
bit superior. We have 
become accustomed to a 
more expansive welcome than 
this irreproachable politeness. 

Arnold Hendei-son suddenly mate- 
rializes, and takes charge of us, like a genial, 
bullying father. He tells us he is delighted 
that we are doing the story; that he is 
completely at our disposal; that Philip 
Bowen has been told to "give us the run of 
the place" ; that. ... I realize that it is going to be 
hard to listen to this man through the hours 
ahead because I find him so unattractive. 

In Henderson's ottice Simon and I open our 
notebooks and begin. We are under more polite 
restraints than lawyers or detectives, and, in • 
theoiy, we have a willing collaborator, but still 
we must ask some unwelcome questions. Hender- 
son answers at length, fluently. My pen races 
over the page at first, and I strain to catch every 
word and be alert to every nuance of the voice. 
It is a harsh voice, the kind that never hears 

Mustrations by Allan Mardon 

itself, and after an hour I am aware, as Simon certainly must be, 
that it is going to tell us a great many things we don't particularly 
want or need to know. 

I light a cigarette, relax a little, and feel, as so often, the reality 
of this moment wane. Even after a year, it often takes the most 
conscious effort at concentration to convince me that this is a "real 
life." I remind myself that I chose to be here. Chose to leave a 
sunny house in California, because it held a life that no longer 
seemed "real." But I live here still as though in a dream. 

Covertly, I search the faces of my three companions. Simon's 
face is too familiar to tell me anything new. Henderson's is too alien. 
And there is Philip Bowen. I think he may be about forty-five. 
Dark hair, dark eyes, clear, pale skin. He is a handsome man who 
seems to be unaware of his physical charm. He looks very tired; 
fatigue is somber shadow on his face. But, despite it, he has a fresh- 
ness, a wonderfully immaculate look which seems a natural conse- 
quence or reflection of his self-containment. 

The day begins to fade. Windows light up as far as we can see, 
and soon the city is radiant against the night sky. Three of us grow 
weary. Henderson, appallingly, seems more highly charged with 
Winter is the right ^^^'"SY than when we began. I begin to feel hungry and cross, 
time for lovers. There is In an unexpectedly decisive way, Philip Bowen rescues us. 

something troublingabout spring, 
and the new show of green. 

"Arnold, it's after eight-thirty. These people may be 
accustomed to more reasonable working hours— I 
think we'd better let them go." 
Henderson looks surprised as he consults his watch. 

But we are freed, and find ourselves, 
not much later, out on the street. 
Simon and I say good night, and 
he starts off downtown. I hesi- 
tate for a moment, thinking 
about walking a few 
blocks before catching 
a bus. The air is fresher 
now; the city's over- 
wrought daylight self 
has subsided. Suddenly 
I'm aware that Philip 
Bowen is at my side. 
"May I get you a cab, 
Mrs. Fraser? Or perhaps 
if we're going in the same di- 
rection we might share one." 
His stop is first, and it is only 
a short trip to his new 
apartment building on 
the river. 

We shake hands as 
we say good night, and 
his hand is as dry and 
cool as his voice. 

Though Simon and I find 
Henderson's unpredictable- 
ness mildly annoying, our 
work goes ahead rapidly 
enough. That first interview set a 
kind of pattern: More often than 
not, we begin at the end of the after- 
noon and sit on through the early eve- 
ning, revived at some moment by tea or 
drinks summoned by Philip, released 
eventually by his quiet suggestion to 
Henderson that it is very late. It works 
i; out well, actually. Simon is in even 
better spirits than usual, and my own 
morale improves in a faintly alarming 
way. It seems safest to attribute it 
to the vivid days of October. 
I buy a few more pretty new clothes. I 
go to several parties. My mother and father come up from 
Washington for a weekend. I begin to feel more than ever 


like a proficient New Yorker, and even forget, for sustained inter- 
vals, the deep gulf across which I can still see too clearly everything 
I used to think I wanted and was so sure I would have. 

By the middle of the month Simon begins to see the story taking 
shape inside in his head and to think about setting it down. An 
evening comes when he remarks, after an especially long session with 
Henderson, that one more interview should satisfy him. We agi'ee 
that it's a relief to be almost done. But I also feel a kind of regret. 

"Sarah, you have the baffled look of someone struggling to 
remember whether they've lost something. I didn't see anything 
left behind upstairs." 

As on that first night, Philip Bowen finds me hesitating on the 
doorstep. His reading of my face makes me smile— it's so near the 
mark. But I say, "No, it's not that. I was just paralyzed by the 
terrible nightly question— whether to be healthy and walk home, 
or economical on a bus, or extravagant taking a taxi." 

"I have an idea — come home for supper with me. My wife has 
asked a few people in, but one more guest wouldn't be any problem. 
Claire would be delighted, and so would I. Do come." 

It seems unlikely that an unexpected addition to the party will 
really delight Mrs. Bowen. But a vision of my silent apartment 
is suddenly daunting. So I say, yes, I'd love to come to dinner. 

We are late; the party is already in progress. Eight or ten 
people sit with drinks in their hands, talking in a relaxed and 
cheerful fashion. At Philip's and my approach, a tall, slender woman 
detaches herself from them: Claire Bowen. 

She is handsome in a cool way, fair and pale, like winter sunlight. 
She is, perhaps, a little older than Philip. Her welcome to me is 
more than polite, but the greeting she exchanges with Philip is so 
brief and formal that I am afraid his casual invitation to me an- 
noyed her. Or is this their customary style? 

Philip seems to be enjoying his own party quite wholeheartedly; 
I've never seen him so relaxed and smiling. But Mrs. Bowen seems 
almost too intent on having each guest feel comfortable. Her reserve 
is different from Philip's— she gives the impression of wanting but 
not knowing how to make a warmer contact. 

When the last guests start to say good-bye, I am surprised to 
realize that it's almost midnight. It's time to go home. Philip offers 
me my coat, and I see he also has his own. It's much too late for 
me to go off alone, he insists, and I'm easily persuaded; it is a pro- 
tective gestiire which seems to suit the gentle mood of the evening. 

The doorman whistles for a taxi in vain. 

"Well, then, shall we walk?" Philip says. "There seems to be 
no choice— I hope you don't mind." 

"Oh, I don't mind, but I hate to bring you out at this hour." 

"Not at all. I often go for a late walk on a fine night." 

We set off uptown in silence, as if by common consent. At the 
intersections Philip takes my arm, with the lightest possible touch. 

The designers of my new "luxury" building had only one gen- 
erous impulse: They set the entrance down a few steps and back 
a few yards from the street, in what is, in effect, a tiny park behind 
a low wall. Now, I discover, it is a fine place to linger over a farewell. 
Sheltered by the little park, we stand leaning against the wall and 
talk, easily enough, about the party and the party guests, but it 
becomes increasingly clear that we are listening to some other 
dialogue. What now? What next? Is this all? 

Philip says: "Sarah, there's a favorite bar of mine not far from 
here. Let me buy you a drink." 

I say, in the calmest, most conventional voice: "Well . . . thank 
you . . . but why don't you come up and let me give you a drink? 
That seems simpler." 

While I make drinks, Philip walks around my living room like 
an anthropologist gathering data: He carefully studies my few 
pictures, examines the spines of books and phonograph records, 
gently touches the one beautiful thing I own, the Tanagra figurine 
which was a wedding present. 

He says finally, when we have settled on the sofa, "It's very 
pretty, Sarah. You have an awfully pretty place." 

I say, "Thank you. When I think of the terrible hurry I did it 
in, it seems more like luck than anything else if it's turned out all 
right. I rented the apartment, at night, in a matter of minutes. 
When I moved in— in daylight— I was really astonished to discover 
that I was going to live at the bottom of a well— you know, with 
another tall building just ten feet away." 

"I'm sorry," he says, with real concern. "I hope you weren't 
too disappointed, or angry." 

"Not really. But it made me feel uneasy, badly prepared. As 
though all the rules here were new and unknown to me." 

"And as though you would have to discover them all by making 
mistakes." And now he takes my hand. 


Is this really what I want, what seems certain to happen next? 
We are sitting quite near each other. It is impossible not to be 
conscious of how easy it would be to close the distance between* 
our bodies. Easy and sweet. And why not? 

We look at each other, and smile a little. We find in each other's 
faces an understanding, a provisional acceptance. We turn toward 
each other, closing the small space without an instant's awkward- 
ness, and kiss. Gently, quietly. A brief pause in which there is 
something almost like a sigh, and our mouths meet again. 

But now I am a little afraid— and suddenly armored by fear. 
Who is Philip? A chance acquaintance. Someone else's husband. 
If I fancy that I'm so deeply attracted to him, and if this attraction 
seems, mutually, so irresistible, all the more reason to mistrust it. 

He senses my hesitation almost before I am fully aware of it 
myself, and says, as a question: "Sarah?" 

"It's getting very late. ... I think you must be . . . expected 
at home." 

The great ascendant curve of our mood drops down again now 
almost as swiftly as it rose. What had seemed inevitable moments 
ago now seems unthinkable. It was exhausting to travel so far so 
fast. Philip's pallor is accentuated. I feel inclined to weep. 

He says finally, "Yes I'm sorry. I had no idea of the time 

I must be on my way." 

I wake the next morning to the thought that all night long I 
have been calling Philip's name, or he mine. I get up and go to 
the office with the thought that I am expecting, at any moment, 
to hear some terribly good news, or have already heard it. 

"You're looking marvelous this morning, Sarah," Simon says. 

Yes ! I must be. 

But then the telephone rings, and it is Philip, calling to say that 
today's meeting with Henderson must be put off. 

That's all. The voice is just the same as it always was, admitting 
nothing, denying nothing. Because nothing is there? 

By the day's end I have constructed an attitude which seems 
lightly, neatly definitive. How trite, how trivial our kissing was! 
After parties people make passes; it's a law of certain lives. I have 
far more experience than I wish of the world in which such pointless 
intimacies are commonplace. How could I have fancied even for a 
moment that something real had happened? 

Simon, having decided he has enough material on Henderson, 
goes home to write, and I am left with far too much time to live on 
fantasy. There are still a few bits of research to be done, Simon 
occasionally calls with a new question, and I also have work to do 
for our next assignment. But the next weeks are fatally undemanding. 

feel as though years have passed, but it is only mid-November 
I when Simon has his first draft ready. He is unusually satisfied 

with it. We had agreed to let Philip have a look at the draft, 

and I am glad that we are not presenting cause for open warfare. 

At this final meeting, Philip is splendid. With light, dry, almost 
offhand comment, he presents his challenges to us, and most of 
them seem just. Simon is fair-minded, and I can tell that he is 
impressed. I am terribly impressed. What a pleasure it would be 
to be able to congratulate Philip on a performance of such effec- 
tive style and strategy. It makes me realize, sadly, how very little 
I know about him. 

And will I never know any more? 

Simon and Philip say good-bye with a cool friendliness which 
seems to forecast that they will meet again only by chance. Philip 
and I shake hands: this touch is painfully pleasant, the briefest of 
rituals. I don't know what was in his face, because I looked away. 

That evening Philip telephones: to ask me to have dinner with 
him three nights later. I can't even tell whether I am surprised. 
When a longing is so intense, any fulfillment of it has a sense 
of the inevitable. 

Across the restaurant, as I enter it, I see Philip sitting, looking 
utterly at home in this elegant setting. As I am shown to the table, 
he gets to his feet with the most charming smile of welcome. In a 
matter of moments, I am settled beside him, with greetings ex- 
changed, a drink for me ordered, and an uncertain silence impend- 
ing. I don't know what to say: How happy I am to be here with 
you, dear Philip ! But that is for him to say, if he chooses to. 

"Sarah," he says, "I shouldn't have asked you to be here with me." 

No, no, he can't really mean that. It is just another formality, 
which I must deny: "Please don't say that. I'm so glad to be here." 

He says: "How old are you?" 

"Thirty-one. . . . And you?" 

"So much older . . . forty-nine." 

Among all the other barriers between us, is the difference in 

our ages important? Apparently. But I feel too shy to ask him why 
he should look so troubled. 

Finally I say: "I hope you weren't too appalled by the article." 

He hesitates. "No, not really. I suppose it was about what we 
expected. The same story about Arnold is written over and over 

"And you don't think it's true?" 

"Only partly true. I've worked for him for almost ten years. Do 
you think I could've stood it that long if he were just as tiresome 
and unpleasant as Simon made him out to be?" 

"No, no, of course not! It's something I kept wondering about 
while we were working on the story— how you felt about Henderson. 
I knew you couldn't feel the way Simon and I did." 

"You knew that." He turns to me with a sweet, pleased smile, 
and then asks with the gentlest mockery: "How did you know?" 

He doesn't expect to be answered. How did I know? I simply 
knew, and he understands that, and is touched and content. 

He says: "Sarah, I . . . wanted to see you again long before this. 
Every day it was a struggle not to call you." 

"Oh, why did you wait? I was longing to hear from you. It was 
almost unbearable." 

"I was almost able to hope," he says, "that you didn't feel that 
way, or that if you did, in several weeks the feeling would quietly 
die." He smiles with a kind of wry self-reproach: "I was really al- 
most counting on you, dear Sarah, to be more sensible than I." 

Almost is surely the crucial word here. I can't bear to think that 
he could seriously have wanted me to refuse him; that he might even 
have been relieved if I had. 

"There are just too many good reasons," he says, "for you to be 

"The fact that you're married." 

"Yes . . . and for the second time." 

This is an unexpected and formidable bit of information. 

"Claire and I have been married not quite five years," he goes 
on. "We both divorced to marry each other." 

There is an enormous upheaval summarized here. For the 
moment I can only wish it weren't so: a great emotional event, quite 
recent, which must have had all the aspects of love. And now he is 
sitting here with me. 

"Do you have any children?" 

"One son, from my first marriage. Alexander— Alex. He's almost 
eleven. Most of the year he lives with his mother in Boston." And as if 
to cut off further inquiry, he says: "And you are divorced, Sarah?" 

"Yes. For a little over a year." 



"You want to marry again some day, I hope?" 

"Yes . . . not just to be married, obviously— 
if so, I suppose I might not have been divorced. 
But for a woman, at least, marriage is . . . the least 
lonely kind of life. Don't you think?" 

"Is that what you think, Sarah, dar- 
ling?" he asks, once again with that 
gentle mockery. I am silenced, and he 
says, in the kindest way: "You'll be 
married again before you know it. 
You're terribly pretty, sweet, 
charming, and so young." 

My heart sinks; this isn't 
what I want to hear at all, this 
cheerful projection of a future on which 
he makes absolutely no claim. "I'm not so 
young as all that," I say. "Why, we're really 
the same generation." 

He responds to this with a smile that has 
more gaiety than I've ever seen in him. But 
quickly some sober shadow falls, and he 
says almost severely: "Don't you believe 
that, Sarah, because it's not so. You 
have most of your life ahead of you." 

The unspoken corollary is obvious 
enough : that by contrast, he feels, most , 
of his life is behind him. No, no, I long 
to say: you have no idea what may still happen to you; 
don't, please don't rule out the possibility that some of 
it may matter— matter a great deal. But I say in 
stead, lightly: "All right. But you must ad- 
mit, at least, that I'm not a child." 

"The gay smile again. "No, thank 
heaven. You're not a child. You're 

marvelously grown up, terribly sophisticated. . . . Oh, Sarah,) 
sure you meant to . . . come to have dinner with me tonight\ 
"Yes." We look at each other, and he knows I'm sure. 

It is finally clear to me what New York's one perfect functioJ 
to shelter clandestine lovers. Among millions seeking thousandsN 
different destinations, the movements of two people leave almo\ 
no trace. 

As to all lovers, everything we do together for the first time seems) 
brand new. I'm sure I never knew before what it was like to walk in 
this city; I think I never really saw the brisk, smart crowd under the 
flags on Fifth Avenue at noon, never noticed how completely the 
city is transformed by the first heavy snowfall. In public we have an 
extraordinary sense of privacy. When we are alone together, the rest 
of the world might not exist. For a few hours of the week, my apart- 
ment is the world. We are as alone together as though every other 
connection we had with life had been severed. 

But who is Philip, who is Sarah? What do we possess in each other? 
I soon find that Philip's reserve is a kind of armor not only 
against the outsider but also against his own consciousness of certain 
thoughts and feelings. It is a delicate and gradual process, discover- 
ing where and when he will feel free, open, trusting. Please, trust me, 
dear Philip, I sometimes long to say. 

His work is the safest ground, although by no means entirely 
safe. Sometimes he talks about Henderson with a dislike far cooler 
than the casual aversion Simon and I felt. But most of the time, the 
mood he brings away from his long, exhausting days is a kind of 
half-detached fascination. Sustaining Henderson's arrogance there 
is evidently an immense vitality, to which Philip is attracted, and a 
certain concentrated intelligence, which really interests him. Some- 
times he talks about Henderson almost enviously. He covets that 
terrible, natural drive, I think. 

One day I ask him: "Would you like Alex to have the kind of 
working life you've had?" 

It is plainly something he has thought about often— anxiously, 

He answers me now: "Perhaps I should want it more than I 
actually do. Of course, he's only eleven. But I don't believe he has 
the right temperament." 

To my surprise, he has been willing from the beginning to talk 
about his son. Philip's son: His photograph shows eyes as dark as 
his father's in a face still childishly soft and round. A tender, 
serious young face. 

"Do you suppose," "He's a wonderful-looking boy, Philip," I say, meaning 

famlr ^ehl^knows ^° ' ^^ving." 

"about me, Sarah?" ^.^^ Philip gives me Alex's letters to read, and they seem 

to me marvels of young charm and sweetness. They are 
always full of special thoughts for his father : "I read the 
book about King Arthur you told me you read when 
^ you were a boy, and I liked it very much." "We 
went to the science museum today, and I remem- 
bered going last summer with you to the one in 
New York." "I hope you had some 
fim on your trip with Mr. Hender- 
son, Papa, and didn't get too tired." 
Once I said to him, "Oh, Philip, 
you must be a wonderful father." 
Almost angrily, he answered: "Don't say 
that, Sarah. You know it can't be so." 

At some later moment — this 
is still dangerous country, but 
not so dangerous as at first — I 
ask : " How do you think Alex came 
through the divorce?" 

There is a pause, and then 
he answers with the slow 
care of someone trjang to 
make an absolutely fair 
judgment on a matter of 
terrible personal impor- 
tance: "I think... as 
well as a child of six 
possibly could. He 
was too young, of 
course, to imder- 
stand it. That was 
the worst thing, 
his desperate 
Once he said..." 


We are sitting on my sofa, quite close. Now in a sudden move- 
ment he gets up. He walks back and forth with a quick, tense step. 

. . he said to his mother, 'Papa doesn't love us any more.' Run- 
ning from me to Polly, as he must have felt I was about to run from 

Silence. There is nothing I can say. 

"Well. The main thing is that Polly's been perfect with him. If 
he hasn't suffered any more than he's seemed to, if he loves me as he 
seems to, it's mostly her doing." 

Sometimes it seems to me that he still cares almost as much about 
his firet wife as he does about their son. "Were you happy together?" 
I ask him. 

He turns the question awaj' at first with a kind of angry anguish: 
"That's a schoolgirl's question. Do you go through life asking your- 
self 'am I happy?' Sarah?" 

"No. I'm sorr^'. That's not really what I meant." 

He knows what I meant. I long to know: what happened. To move 
him to destroy the one marriage for another. "V^Tiat was the desperate 
impxilse behind what must siirely have seemed to him an act of 

He says, more calmly: "I'm sorry. I suppose I'd have to say that 
Polly and I were happy enough. I can't really explain to you what 
went wrong. Nothing went wrong." 

The bare facts are utterly" commonplace, one of the classic plots 
of broken marriages. He knew Claire for years, and her husband; 
the two couples were old and good friends. Then suddenly he and 
Claire were lovers, and then, all this in less than half a year, divorced 
and married. 

Only five years ago. 

WTien he talks about his divorce it is almost like a man trjong to 
talk about a tragedy, perhaps a death in the familj*. But it must 
have been a passionate cra\Tng for happiness which brought on the 
madness, and I wish he would let me have a glimpse of it. I long to 
know the man who once, at least, put such a desperately high value 
on happiness. 

Ovir histories have been so different that we are always likely to 
misunderstand each other. But he— it often seems to me that he 
wishes to be misunderstood, while I am absurdly anxious to interpret 
myself to him "correctly." 

"Oh, Philip," I say to him once, "it must be terribly boring— I'm 
always explaining myseK." 

He denies it with great warmth, and in fact I am never really 
afraid that I'm boring him. On the contrarj^ the great temptation 
is to be too amusing, to make self -mocking little stories of the most 
painfully chaotic experiences. Partly, I suppose, it is a way of match- 
ing his reser\'e and detachment. 

I think he will never really understand why I left my husband. 

dym%, too. We lived together like . . . polite strangers. After seven 
years, we were more like strangers than ever." 

He is curious to know why I came to New York. "Wouldn't i^ 
have been easier for you to have gone back to Washington, with 
family and friends there?" 

"Oh, no," I answer, unguarded, "I couldn't have gone creeping 
back home then. I was a failure. I'd failed at the most important 
undertaking of my life." 

I never should put it in those terms to Philip: It somids like a 
reproach or judgment of him. I know he feels guilty, past any possi- 
bility of forgiveness. "And besides," I add hastily, "where else is 
there but New York? If you're starting a new life. As a matter of 
course you come to New York— to make your fortune." 

I am full of droll stories, for Philip, about ray beginnings in New 
York. But, once, longing to be truthful, I say: "I'd never been so 
frightened in my life. I couldn't seem to see the fut\u^ with me in it." 

He looks uneasy, troubled, baffled, as though I had confessed to 
a personal defect which he was \mwilling to see. He smiles and puts 
away such a desolate image of me: "No, no, darling. I can't believe 
you were frightened. That's not like you." 

Insist or not? "Well, it didn't /ee/ like me." Philip evidently pre- 
fers to think of me as a gay, impulsive creature with a gift for fiiiding 
pleasiire in life. 

"Philip," I say frankly, after several installments of this mad- 
cap's history, "it's not fair. Whj' should I be so confidential with 
you when you're so unforthcoming about your own life?" 

"That's not so, darling," he says, offhandedly. "I've told you far 
too much about my life. Most of it's been perfectly quiet and 

He would far rather let it go at that. 

I say, lightly still: "Oh, come now. You mean that in this city of 
so much . . . casual temptation, you've resisted it all?" Except for 
Claire; except for me, I don't say. 

His expression is cool, almost severe, as he answers: "I suppose 
I've never found these . . . casual temptations esp>ecially attractive." 

He has no sooner said it before he wishes he could take it back. 
But it's too late. I am wounded, suddenly and severely. My tears 
come in a flood. Philip puts his arms arotind me, calling me sweet 
names, strokes m\- hair, kisses my closed streaming eyes. But I say, 
in a cold voice I hardlj' recognize: "I'm sorr>" to have gotten so upset. 
I can imderstand how I misled you. My pla>-ful stories. My generally 
plaj'ful style. But I don't see how you could have made sense out 
of . . . being my lover, taking up with this pla^-ful, casual girl, when 
you fancied that you lived by such different terms?" 

He says, after a moment, quietly, seriously: "Sarah, darling, I 
never imagined that this was just a casual adventure, for either of us. 
I know vou understand that." 

because I'm so inclined to give a viry, sometimes even rather comic, 
account of our life together. I try at least to be fair, to Tom and also I say: "I love you, Philip." Wlien did I say that for the first time? 

to myself. But still I find myself creating a caricature of the truth. Perhaps it was at Christmas. 

Tom Fraser, the rising young architect. Sarah Phiiip looks now as i we going to give each other Christmas presents? 

Fraser, his lovely yotmg wife. Mature, serious, must look, pale and still. "Please, In my own mind I fret over this question in an ab- 
responsible young people, both of dedde'i?ke thi^^n ari'fn^^ surdly persistent way. But I am buying presents for 

them, and devoted to each other. Think about it." " everj-one else I love, and one Saturday afternoon I 

Not having children was a deep 
disappointment to them, 
but they faced this prob- 
lem in a mature, respon 
sible way, reading 
medical literature, 
seeing doctors, look- 
ing into the pos- 
sibility of adop- 
tion. Then, 
not long af- 
ter her thir- 
tieth birthday, 
Mrs. Fraser bolts. 

He never says so, 
but Philip finds it hard to 
believe that I hadn't fallen in 
love with someone else 
when I left Tom. Other- 
wise, don't most people 
simply stay married? Se- 
rious, responsible people? 

"But, Philip, I was 
dying" I say to him 
once, in a truthful 
mood. "And Tom was 



come across a beautifully 
made, marvelously 
expensive little 
traveling chess set. 
PhiUp and Alex like 
to play chess to- 
gether. It is irresistible. 
On our last evening 
before I go to my family's 
for the holida>-s I am 
still undecided, al- 
though the chess set 
is wrapped in Christ- 
mas paper. We have a 
leisurely dinner together, 
storing up the memorj- of 
'leasure against the com- 
.ig week apart. Time has 
almost run out when we 
get to my apartment, and 
with a private laugh at my 
uncertainty, 1 give him his 
present. He takes the pack- 
age with a amile, kisses me 
several times, briefly looks 
embarrassed, and finally 

takes out of an inner pocket and offers to me what is also unmis- 
takably a Christmas present. 

I unwrap a very fine old Persian bracelet, delicate, pale gold 
filigi-ee. I admire it extravagantly, and he praises the chess set as 
though it were surely the nicest present he'd ever had. The brace- 
let is beautiful, but even if it were not, I would be just as happy. 
It wasn't the occasion that mattered but the ceremony itself, the 
first exchange of offerings. He has something of mine to keep, and I 
something of us. 

"Oh, Philip," I say, kissing him, or being kissed, "I love you so." 

I go on saying "I love you" with increasing conviction. And, 
without my realizing exactly when it happens, I begin to hear 
Philip say: "My love," "dear love," "my lovely love." I see in his 
face so much tenderness and joy, and his embrace is so perfectly 
loving. And at last I give myself up to believing that we both have 
made an encounter with what we think is love. 

Winter, our first season, is the right time for lovers to come to 
know each other. We respond to spring almost as though we had 
never expected the season to change. Warm sun and wind seem like 
a disturbance of the proper order of things. There is something 
troubling about the new show of green. 

My father telephones one April night. "Your mother's flowers 
are a wonder," he says. "Never lovelier." 

"Oh, I wish I could see them. Perhaps I could come down one 
weekend soon." But I don't really want to go away. 

"That would be wonderful, darling," my father says. "But I was 
calling to say that 1 have to come to New York on a case next 
Wednesday, and I hope you can have dinner with me that night." 

We meet at one of the restaurants which we regard almost as 
family property, because we've always gone to them as New York 
visitoi-s. As we sit talking over drinks, it occurs to me that father 
might, by some impossible means, have found out about Philip. But 
I think if he did, he would simply worry quietly, late at night, hoping 
and hoping that I would neither come to nor be the cause of gi'ief. 

He says now, "Sarah, your mother and I have been thinking 
lately . . . we're hoping that you might be intei-ested in coming back 
to Washington. You've been here a year and a half now, and we're 
very proud of the way you've managed your life here " 

"Thank you." I am touched, and feel a surprisingly strong sense 
of relief: No, he couldn't possibly know about Philip. 

"It's true, darling. You've made a new life for yourself, with very 
little help from us. But we hope you might feel you wanted to come 
back to Washington now— and let us be more help. I've even heard 
about a possible job. You remember Peter Larkin and that little 
magazine he started. Well, I told him about you, and he sounded 

I say to my father: "It's an awfully tempting idea, but I'm just 
not sure it's the thing to do right now." 

My father says, "Well, it's nothing that has to be decided tonight. 
But it seems to me there's a lot in its favor." 

Oh yes! My life would probably be a lot pleasanter. But when 
I think about it later, the idea has the unreality of a dream— an 
absurd dream which I come out of with a kind of giddy gaiety. 
No, I am not going to leave Philip's city. It's almost as though I 
had been ordered to go— and then granted a reprieve. I feel marvel- 
ously lighthearted, recklessly gay, and can hardly endure the hours 
until I see Philip. 

When we meet for dinner, I am still feeling gay. Philip, as I tell 
him what Father said, looks far too serious; he should realize what 
a narrow escape we had and celebrate our deliverance with me. 

"Do you suppose, Sarah," he says, "that your family has some- 
how . . . discovered that you have . . . me in your life?" 

"No, I don't think that's it. They want me to come home because 
they believe I'll stand a better chance of marrying again." 

Philip looks even more serious and says: "I seem to remember 
your telling me very early on that you thought marriage was the 
best state for women." 

"Oh, yes, wasn't that a ridiculous thing to have said to you just 

"No it wasn't, darling. In any case, I thought you meant it." 

I say: "I suppose there's something about married life I prefer. 
Even to the very last days of my marriage, there was something 
awfully pleasant about going into the kitchen to get supper started 
every night— something reassuring." 

"Angel, I can see you very clearly in that scene. It's becoming." 

This doesn't especially please me. I say: "Well, of course, the 
whole thing was a farce. Cooking away like that amidst the ruins." 

"Don't say that, Sarah. I can see you so well at the center of 
some almost . . . old-fashioned married scene: a big house, lots of 
children, a garden " 

"Philip! Are you trying to tell me that you want me to . . . leave 
New York?" 

"Sarah, don't be a fool," he says. "I couldn't even bear to 
imagine your leaving New York, much less wish it." 

Ah, how sweet. Has he ever said anything sweeter to me? 

"But it occurs to me," he says, "that you might see alternatives 
to your present life which made more sense to you— and that get- 
ting man-ied again might figure among them rather importantly." 

"I'd like to be married to you." 

Said now, this has the stamp of perfect, irresistible truth. But 
Philip's face is unreadable. What shall I say? Take it back? Qualify, 
apologize, pretend, as he would probably prefer, that my marvel- 
ously blunt, plain, truthful remark was never made? 

"Philip-o, it's true, you know. I'd love to be mamed to you." 

He says deliberately, seriously: "You're much too yoimg and 
full of life to be married to me, Sarah. In a very few years you would 
find it impossible." 

"No, you're wrong, Philip," I say, trying to match his com- 
posure. "I would always be happy with you." 

I't comes out sounding ridiculously childlike, and he smiles. 
It is a terribly loving, hopelessly remote smile that makes me 
"Oh, Sarah," he says, "you're such a love. If you think 
you're 'happy' with me now, that seems like a miracle to me. But 
try to imagine time passing. Love changing." 

I don't know what to say next; as I speak I sound stubborn and 
woebegone: "Time would have no effect, except to make me love 
you all the more. You must know that." 

Enough, too much, for the moment. I take up my cup and drink 
the last of my coffee. Philip pays the check, helps me into my coat. 
From the rather dark restaurant we come out into the final light of 
a spring evening. Stung by a sense of loss, I feel tired and tender, 
divided from Philip, longing to have him draw me close to him 
again. Perhaps he senses this, for he puts his arm around my waist, 
an invitation to me to respond in kind. We walk along together 
quietly in this loving, rather awkward way, and I am so willing, 
so happy to be bound to him again. 

"Sarah, can you have lunch today? Something's come up that 
I've got to talk over with you." 

Simon's invitation, coming so soon after my conversation with 
my father, makes me wary. And, during lunch, hel says: "Sarah, 
I've just agreed to do a book that's going to mean an awful lot of 
traveling. We'd be on the road for weeks at a time over the better 
part of a year. You must know, Sarah, how much I hope you'll 
come with me. But if you should decide to stay here, I'm sure I 
could help you find another job you'd like." 

There is a major shock in this, even stronger than I might have 
expected. To part completely with Simon, or to be gone from New 
York for long stretches of time: this decision doesn't really seem 
hard to make, but its consequences won't be easy to bear. 

Dear Simon. He seems, in the light of almost certain separation, 
my one great friend in New York. And a new job: that means the 
disturbing necessity for new thought about what I expect from work. 
I've been lucky with Simon. Warmed by his friendliness and sweet- 
ness, I could find some sense of the old feminine rewards— as a 
cheerful little office mock-up of the dutiful daughter, the diligent, 
conscientious schoolgirl. Pleasing other people— that compelling 
feminine vocation. But I can't count on always being so lucky. 
I will have to begin to think again about what I am doing, where I 
am heading, what I want to do. 

I want to marry Philip. 

This thought seems to have lodged itself permanently in con- 
sciousness. I thought I was happy during the winter, as our love 
affair grew and bloomed in its private luxuriance. But now there 
are too many moments when it seems clear that my joy was an 

When I see Philip, it is with a sense of something changed, or 
changing. All because I want something from him. 

I tell him about Simon's plans while we are in a small, rather 
crowded restaurant, having lunch. "It's really a problem. You know 
how fond I am of Simon. But all that traveling is bound to get tire- 
some, and ..." 

How shall I say this? Or shall I say it at all? Yes. 

". . . and I hate the thought of being away from you so much, 

He smiles very sweetly at me for this, and takes my hand, is 
thoughtfully silent for several moments, and then says: "You 
mustn't let that weigh too heavily, love. You know how much I 


would miss you. I'd miss you terribly. But you must think about 
what's the best thing to do in practical terms." 

What is there to think about? It seems to me I have the answer 
now. He is telling me: Go away if you choose to; above all, don't 
stay on my account; I won't be responsible for whether you go or 

I look at his face, interested, kindly, remote, and I abandon all 
my sensible vows in a blind, headlong dive into anguish. 

"If I were to be off with Simon all that time, I might just as well 
move away for good. I might as well move back to Washington. 
Is that what you think I should do?" 

At least I shock him out of his remoteness. He looks as startled 
as though I had made some violent physical gesture, breaking some- 
thing. He studies my face with an intensity which I've never seen 
before. It lights up his face brilliantly, and then fades, like light 
fading, leaving only the shadow of weariness and sadness. It is the 
terribly tired, somber face I first saw, and fell in love with, and the 
sight of this face makes me long to say, tenderly, that it doesn't 
matter: whether I go or stay is unim"portant, love; please don't be 
tired and sad ; let me do whatever I can to make you happy. 

He is silent, as though hesitating over whether or not to say 
something very important. He goes on then, quietly still, but with 
a deep, arresting seriousness: "I love you, Sarah. I care terribly 
about what happens to you. I can scarcely bear to think what life 
would be like without you. But I can't urge you to make one plan or 
another. I can't . . . I've said too much already." 

Touched to the quick by the tone of his voice, I say: "I under- 
stand that, love. I understand." 

Afterward, of course, this "understanding" I professed to have 
is as elusive as the memory of a dream. Or it is like a message 
written in some ancient, lost language: I love you, Sarah. I care 
terribly about what happens to you. 

Yes. I know that. I believe it. But what does it mean? Great joy 
here and now, but what comes afterward? What good is "caring" 
that won't make plans? 

Once he said to me, "I'm grateful to you for never . . . asking 
about my life with Claire." 

"Philip !" I said then, genuinely shocked. "I wouldn't, I couldn't." 
It was true, and is still true. But mostly for craven reasons. The less 
I know, the less I'm obliged to accept as reality. 

Sometimes I've had an unwanted glimpse, wholly in my mind's 
eye, of a marriage made of the hardest, most durable materials: 
the desperate devotion and loyalty of two people bound together 
by their sense of how much damage they did to other people in 
order to get what they wanted themselves. Sometimes I have a 
bleak impression of a marriage sustained by the coolest, most 
durable kind of determination. 

It is an especially shining, blooming May day that I choose to 
tell Philip that my tiresome thinking is done. We are to have a late 
supper, and I feel as fresh and simple and inviting as the evening— 
deliciously inviting in a summery new dress. My own sudden 
happiness seems inexhaustible and invincible. 

"What have you got on your mind, Sarah?" Philip asks, as soon 
as he arrives. 

"Oh, I'm so relieved ! I finally realized that the only thing I could 
possibly do was get another job— stay here in New York." 

"Darling— I'm glad you've been able to settle it. And you're 
really sure that's what you want to do?" 

"Yes, yes, of course I am. I don't see how you can even ask." 

"Well . . . something's come up that changes the immediate 
future. I've got to be away all summer— in Eui'ope. Doing a review 
of our branches there." 

It is as though we had been playing a game, and someone said, 
"You're dead." I feel pale, cold, still, stopped dead in the midst of 
a game. 

"I suppose you didn't mention it before," I say, "because you 
didn't want me to be influenced while I was trying to make my own 

"Yes, that was just it." He smiles gratefully, then more anxiously. 
"I hope that was the right thing to do. You know, I won't be gone 
more than a couple of months. I'll be back early in September." 

"But I won't be here." I'll be gone. I'll be in Washington. 

"Sarah, don't say that. You'd made up your mind to stay in 
New York." 

"I've changed it. I'm moving back to Washington. It was really 
the thing to do all along." 

"Please, darling, don't decide like this, in an instant. Think 
about it more carefully." He looks now as I imagine I must look, 
pale and still. 


"No," I say, "I've done enough thinking." And missed until now 
the entire sense of the situation. I will try to explain just once what 
I understand now, and then we mustn't talk about it any more. 

"I love you too much, Philip," I say. "I care about you too much. 
I can't bear it. You have your own complete life, full of its own plans 
and laws and commitments. Somehow I can't bear seeing that so 
clearly, or so close at hand." 

"But you're part of my life, Sarah." 

"Not really. Not your real life. I'm part of your dream life." 

He says: "Yes, in a way that's true. There's a kind of perfection 
about this— this love affair which is dreamlike. Your . . . lovingness 
often seems to me like some perfect dream." 

"Oh, Philip, that's sweet. It's terribly easy to be loving with 
you." I take his hand, kiss the palm, and the inside of his wrist. 
The deep, familiar pleasure of it makes me think: How can I go 
away? And then, in the next instant, I must. 

When I telephone my family, their happiness at my news makes 
me feel a little fraudulent, but happy, too, at pleasing them so. 
My mother undertakes to find me an apartment. When I see Peter 
Larkin, a few days later in New York, he offers, and I accept, a job. I 
find a tenant to take over my apartment. Everything seems astonish- 
ingly simple. Saying good-bye to Simon is hard, but in his charac- 
teristic way he makes me feel that, while he is terribly sorry to see 
me go, I'm doing the right thing, and it's sure to turn out splendidly 
for me. 

On my last day, Philip and I have dinner together. My plan is 
I rather indefinite : to fly to Washington later in the evening, or 
I spend the night at a hotel if it's too late for the last plane. It 
doesn't matter; we will say good-bye to each other at dinner. 
"I'll be back about September first," Philip says. 
"Shall we write each other?" I ask. 
"What do you think?" 

"Probably better not try it." I had decided he would probably 
prefer not to, and I probably should prefer not to. Let this summer 
be a blank between us, and see what happens. 

"Sarah," he says, as we are drinking our coffee, "have you de- 
cided not to leave tonight?" 

"Yes. I just don't feel up to it." 

"Come home with me. I'm alone tonight." 

At first I'm not sure that I understand. But in a moment it is 
suddenly as clear to me as if it were something we long ago had 
planned to do. 

"Yes," I say. "I'd love to do that." 

We get my bag, find a taxi. We arrive at his building, and go up- 
stairs to the apartment which I saw for the first time so long ago. 
I remember the river, brilliantly beautiful at night. But of this 
place I can only think. Its only meaning for me is: we are going to 
spend the night together here; for the first time we are going to 
spend the whole night together. 

Washington looks lovely. I see it all through my own bright 
cloud of happiness. The city's radiance may simply be a reflection 
of my own. "You look wonderful, Sarah," my father says. "It 
pleases me that you're happy to be back." 

Yes, I am so happy: more in love with Philip than ever before. 
Sleeping all night beside each other, waking up together in the 
morning: an experience that made that difference always described 
as not of degree but of kind. I knew it would, perhaps for that 
reason never protested the fact that it didn't happen before, know- 
ing how much it would matter. 

I say to my father in a rush: "Oh, I feel full of energy and opti- 
mism. I'm going to work very hard at my job, try to make something 
of it, and " 

What else am I going to try to do? Try to construct another 
whole existence. 

My mother says: "You've had several dinner invitations, and 
Dinah is dying to give a party for you as soon as she gets back from 
the Cape." 

"That sounds wonderful. Mother. I can't wait to see Dinah. 
How is she?" 

"She seems fine," my mother says. "She went with me to look at 
several apartments and little houses for you. And we finally found 
.something we both think you'll like." 

The place my mother and Dinah found turns out to be a tiny 
house in Georgetown. The .sun streams through the windows in 
spite of the tall old trees all around, and, best of all, there is a small 
back garden, with a few rose bushes in bloom and a slender green 
young willow tree. In the early mornings, bird song is as loud and 
varied as though we were deep in the country. On a Sunday 

afternoon, sitting in my garden, I can hear dogs barking and chil- 
dren shouting at play. Several bells sound the hour, and I try to 
imagine how they will sound to Philip. 

"I'm so glad you're back, Sarah," my good friend Dinah says 
on the telephone a few days later. "There are a couple of divine 
men I want you to meet. But Austin and the children can't wait 
to see you," she goes on. "Before we make any other plans, I hope 
you'll come and just have a family supper with us." 

There is something very difficult for me in the evening of the 
family supper. What is it, exactly? The children greet me with 
energetic warmth. Their father is a decent, serious, kind man. 
Not long after supper, the children go upstairs. They kiss me 
good-night with charming spontaneity. I catch a glimpse of Dinah's 
face during this farewell: It is radiant with pride and pleasure in 
her children's sweetness. 

I had said to Philip: "I'm part of your dream life," and that 
didn't seem such a bad thing. But here I see love acted out, acted 
upon, lived, not dreamed. My father and mother act on their love, 
toward each other, toward me. And the central, the continuing 
action of Philip's life expresses his love: not for me. 

Luke Morrow is one of Dinah's "divine men." Late thirties; 
the youngest partner in a law firm of even more imposing reputa- 
tion than my father's. I like the look of his thin, tense face. And he 
has a good, even exceptional, intelligence. 

One blazingly hot Sunday we drive out to the country house of 
his law firm's senior partner. We are the youngest of a dozen guests, 
and he is at his most relaxed in this atmosphere of solid, successful 
middle age. He must see within his eventual grasp, and so will per- 
mit himself to covet, this kind of setting: handsome old house, 
beautiful gardens, large, artfully landscaped swimming pool. 

I linger in the pool, feeling pleasantly capricious, sure that Luke 
thinks I ought to join the rest of the party now assembled under the 
shade trees for drinks before lunch. Yes, he looks just a little dis- 
satisfied as he comes back to the edge of the pool— to ask me if I 
wouldn't Hke a drink. 

"Oh, yes, very soon," I say. "But it's so deliciously cool in 
the water." 

He stands at the pool's edge, now looking openly impatient. 
Well, what do I care about this little game? I swim over to the 
nearest ladder, and get out of the pool. 

We see each other just once every week or ten days, and, except 
when I refuse to leave a swimming pool at the proper moment, I 
suppose I must seem to him a perfectly well-behaved, presentable 
partner for social occasions. We talk about current news, life in 
Washington, mutual acquaintances, his work, my work— anything 
that can be discussed impersonally. He never touches me except 
in helping me out of a car, crossing a street. I am grateful for that, 
but curious. Surely he must be in love with some- ^.^^ ^^^^^^ ^ ^.^^ 

one else? house in Georgetown, with tali 

"Oh, no," Dinah says. "I'm certain I'd know it oid trees all around, and a small 
if he had some serious girl. I think he may garden with roses in bloom, 

still be feeling terribly hurt from his di 
vorce. Don't look so skeptical, Sarah. I 
know he seems awfully tough. But 
there's something really warm and 
good underneath all the am- 

"Well, I'm not saying 
I think he's a monster, 
Dinah. In lots of ways 
he's very attractive. But 
Andrew is more my style." 

Even in the way they 
look, Luke Morrow and 
Andrew Lef evre are strik- 
ingly dissimilar. An- 
drew's handsomeness 
comes dangerously close to 
being too bland. But he seems 
to have light and warmth to spare for all 
comers, and invincible kindliness of spirit. 

One beautiful Sunday afternoon, I 
make a picnic lunch, and Andrew and I 
drive out into Virginia to walk in Prince 
William Forest. It is already almost the 
middle of August, and early 
next month Philip and I 
are to meet again. But, as 
we walk in the shadowed. 

cool, green forest, this attractive young man and I, Philip seems 
astonishingly remote. The great trees are so real, and the sun 
burning dully through them, and the sound of our footsteps on 
thickly matted dead leaves. 

We eat our lunch under a giant oak, and afterward sit leaning 
sleepily against its great trunk. It seems perfectly natural and 
friendly when Andrew takes my hand, and I feel nothing but a 
kind of idle curiosity about what may happen next. He is looking at 
me, and I turn to look at him. His face is very serious, and as he 
draws me close enough to kiss me, this seriousness deepens into an 
intensity which makes me fully aware at last that this may be an 
encounter of some consequence. 

His face, when he finally breaks off the kiss, asks a question 
which I would rather not try to answer. I smile and kiss him again, 
lightly and quickly, but he won't be put off. And since he cares 
enough to want me to say something, I want to be truthful. 

"Andrew, I think I'm still so involved with someone else that . . . 
that I don't have much feeling left over. I'm sorry." 

He smiles, composed and cheerful. "Well, that's all right, Sarah. 
I'm sorry too. But there's no hurry." 

His reaction was so perfectly in character that afterward I feel 
a little guilty. I wanted him to believe that I wasn't rejecting him 
for good, and apparently he did. But the memory of the afternoon 
that is most vivid is of a deep, emphatic, quite involuntary no. Not 
a no to Andrew, but to desire itself. I am, it seems, waiting for Philip. 

But then, a few nights later, dancing with Luke confuses me 
again. It is such a joy to be dancing; the pleasure of it takes me by 
surprise. Luke takes me by surprise: He dances with a grace and 
gaiety quite unexpected in such a tense, self-contained man. The 
night seems designed for pure pleasure: a lavish, elegant, really 
quite beautiful party at another rich country house. I think, with 
surprise: This is the happiest night of the summer. 

I fall asleep with my head on Luke's shoulder during the drive 
back to town. And am awakened by a kiss. 

We are parked in front of my house. Struggling out of sleep, I am 
not quite sure at first who is kissing me. It seems pleasant; I feel 
sleepy and acquiescent. But it is Luke, unmistakably, a coolly will- 
ful, inflexibly self-centered man. I begin to resist, stiffen, feel angry 
even. I say: "Luke, I've got to go in." 

"Well, I was just going to suggest that we go in the house." 
"No, it's terribly late. I must say good night." 
"It's just after three. Early." 

He tightens his arms around me, and I realize how determined he 
I will have to be rude, I'm afraid, primly rude. 


"So I'm certain I'll never see him again, Dinah. And, in a way, 
I'm sorry. Such a silly little scene, after such a lovely evening." 
"No, don't feel badly," Dinah says. "I'm sure you were right." 

I am tempted to tell her about Philip. He will be 
home in a few days: hardly possible to believe. 
I say tentatively: "You see, I'm still rather entangled 
in my New York life. It's nothing at all suitable — it's 

probably about over ■" Now, why did I say that? 

Probably about over. 

"But this is someone you've really 
loved?" Dinah says. 

The intensity behind that 
question is startling. I see 
that my friend's calm, 
cheerful face suddenly 
looks upset, almost angry. 
"I've loved him very 
much. More than anyone 

ever before." 
"And you think you may 
still be in love with him?" 

"Well, then," she says, "1 
can understand why Luke . . . 
why you were upset. . . and if it's 
someone you loved so much, 
of course you must 

wait until " Her 

voice breaks off, her 
eyes fill with tears, 
and they run down her 
cheeks. I'm aston- 
ished. She looks young 
and pitiful, all of her calm 
womanliness fallen away. 

I say hesitantly, "Dinah, dear, is there something wrong?" 

"Oh, no," she says quickly. "There's nothing wrong now. It's 
something I never should tell a soul, but . . . well, where to begin? 
It was thinking about love that set me off just now. I didn't mean 
to start quizzing you so . . . but, oh, Sarah " 

She smiles suddenly, not at me but at some inward vision, then 
abruptly banishes the smile and goes on, in a dry, quiet voice: 
"Well, it's a commonplace little story, the beginning of it ... I 
thought I was in love with another man. . . ." 

She looks at me appealingly, as if to say: I know it's shocking, 
but please don't be too shocked. She knows it's "commonplace"— 
but it wasn't commonplace in her life, and she was shocked. Dinah, 
I can understand that so well. 

"Beheve it or not," she goes on, "we never made love. That 
seems terribly quaint in retrospect— we were trying so hard to be 
'responsible.' But we caused almost as much pain and trouble as if 
we'd run away together. Or at least / did. Somehow, my . . . friend 
managed a perfectly successful concealment. But I " 

I am afraid she is going to weep again. But she closes her eyes 
for an instant, and says: "I'll always be ashamed of myself. It was 
the most unforgivably childish, cruel self-indulgence. I made only 
the feeblest effort to hide my feelings from Austin— I let him be 
hurt just because I fancied I was suffering so." 

She pauses again, looking tired and sad, but then that mar- 
velous radiance flashes back in another smile of purest joy. "Well— 
the only point in my telling you about this stupid mess," she says, 
"is because its outcome was such a . . . revelation. Perhaps this is 
perfectly commonplace, too, but I finally discovered, in the midst 
of all that ghastly floundering around, exactly how much I loved 
Austin. It terrifies me to think that just out of carelessness, out 
of stupidity, I might have lost the love of my life. My own husband ! 
What incredible luck. . . . Oh, Sarah, I must sound so foolish." 

"You don't sound foolish. You sound wonderful." She does; her 
voice and her expression are thrilling. 

"I'm afraid I haven't put it very well," she says. "I can't find 
the right words for it — this simple, absolute knowledge that one 
loves someone. Oh, Sarah, I hope that you " 

She breaks off, looking shy. Not wanting to seem to press, now, 
for confidences. It's all on the tip of my tongue still: Philip and 
I. . . . But now, all at once, I feel a longing for Philip so intense 
that to talk about him would be unbearable. I say: "I think I under- 
stand what you've felt, Dinah. But my own life has been so differ- 
ent—so different from yours, different from my expectations. I've 
hardly been able to recognize its terms and conditions." 

She says, with a superb air of conviction: "Oh, but when it comes 
to this kind of love, I'm sure that terms and conditions have noth- 
ing to do with it. It's just chance that Austin is my husband. Of 
course, I'm very gi'ateful — it makes it so much more convenient"— 
she looks her old, mischievously gay self again— "but you mustn't 
worry about terms and conditions, Sarah, darling." 

"This is amazing," he says, when, in just a few minutes' walk 
into the park, we are out of sight of the street and alone, apparently, 
in deep woods. I feel proud as though it were my own doing, anfl, 
when I see his serenely happy look, so happy myself that I could 
bless the trees and the sunny day and the incredibly kind chance 
which assembled this perfect moment in time. 

I say: "Philip— can you stay over until Monday morning?" 

He stops still, looking surprised. "Oh, darling, I thought I'd 
told you on the telephone. I've got to get a plane by noon tomor- 
row. Alex is coming in for a few davs before his school starts." 

"Oh, no!" 

"Yes, I'm afraid it's so. Please forgive me if I didn't tell you on 
the phone. I wish it hadn't worked out that way, but " 

Less than twenty-four hours. What can possibly happen in less 
than twenty-four hours? What had I expected might happen? 

Ahead of us a few yards is a rough table and benches, for pic- 
nickers. We walk on to it silently and sit down, on opposite sides 
of the table, as though we were going to have a meeting. We look 
at each other in silence for a moment, and he takes my hand. I 
can't bear it. I put my head down on my arms, to let the table's soft 
old wood soak up my tears. After a little while he says: "Sarah . . . 
I shouldn't have come down here at all this weekend. You were 
getting on very well, and " 

"Oh, no!" That brings me upright instantly, shocked as though 
by a sudden, sharp and alien sound. His face is as serious as I have 
ever seen it, tense, pale, full of some unreadable anxiety. "Oh, no," 
I say, more quietly. "Of course you had to come down. How I'm 
'getting on' has nothing to do with it." 

"Yes, it does, Sarah," he says, quietly, too. 

"No, it doesn't. It hasn't been a bad summer. It's been a rather 
nice summer, as I guess I said last night. Family, old friends, new 
friends. All of it, very 'nice.' But I . . . none of it seems to have any- 
thing to do with ... with this . . . love affair." 

He is silent for a moment; and the woods seem so quiet in the 
heat; even the birds have been silenced. "Yes, I know," he says at 
last, slowly. But he won't meet my eyes; he looks away with a 
serious, almost stubborn expression. 

"But you've just started here, Sarah," he says. 

"You've just begun this new life, and it seems so . . . promising. 
It's started out so well. I can't, I mustn't jeopardize that. You 
want to see me now, you think, but in a few months " 

^ .. e stand, arms about each other, kissing again at 
mM last, Philip and I. We are standing just a few steps 
W * from my front door, his suitcase beside us. We 
* - could hardly wait to close the door before 
putting our arms around each other. 

He says, finally: "Sarah . . . I'm so . . . terribly 
glad to see you." I see in his face the same dazzled 
astonishment which must be in mine. 

We go into the garden, and then we go upstairs, 
and he admires the garden anew from my bedroom 
window. We stand for a few moments at the window 
in the fading light; he looks at the garden, and I look 
at his face: suddenly grown serious. I wish I knew 
what he is thinking. 

Even early in the morning the day is very hot. 
"Don't you miss air conditioning?" Philip asks at 

" Darl ing, are you terribly hot ? I didn ' t get i t, I guess, 
because I wanted to hear the birds in the morning." 

"Yes, that was lovely," he says. We smile. Even the 
heat now seems to have an agreeable languor as we sit, in 
our dres.sing gown.s, lazily finishing our coffee at midmorning 

"If we could ever pull ourselves away from the breakfast 
table," I say, "we might go out for a walk." 

"Do you suppose we might find some cool place to walk? 
Is there a park nearby?" 

"Oh, yes, a very nice one. It's more like a little forest- 
especially now when the leaves are .so thick." 

"In a few months! In a few months, what?" Suddenly, this con- 
versation seems maddeningly opaque. I can't sit still; I push back 
the bench and stand up; and force myself to sit down again, strug- 
gling for composure against this dangerous . . . anger? In a few 
months— what? "You may have taken up with some ravishing new- 
creature," I say, "someone far more arrogant and ruthless than I am, 
who'll really dynamite your life." 

Philip says: "Do you honestly believe that's very likely?" 
"I don't know, and I don't care. Right now, you're here, we're 
It is such a joy to together. That's all I care about." 

^'ICnK'me':"'!*' '* ^^^"^ ^ ^^^^^^ ^^y-" 

"It's not a question of what I think," I say, too loudly. 
"That's ridiculous. You feel whatever you feel. I've told 
you what I feel. I love you. The thought of . . . saying 
good-bye to you is . . . horrifying. But if that!s what 
you have in mind, then, of course, you must tell me. 
Please, tell me." 

Paler than ever, he says slowly: "We've been misun- 
derstanding each other rather badly in the past few- 
minutes. I was just trying to be certain that— well, 
never mind, please forgive me." He hesitates, and 
then, I hear in his own dry, cool voice: "I love you. 
The thought of saying good-bye to you is horrifjdng." 
I realize: It wasn't anger I felt, but fear. The danger: 
loss of what I value most in the world, the private mean- 
ing, the dearest truth, of my life. I am cold for a mo- 
ment, in the heat, with a sense of mortal danger passed. 
"I love you," I say. 

"I love you," he says, and we smile because we 
sounded so solemn. 

"Shall we go back?" he says, and we get up and 
follow the path back out of the woods, walking 
clumsily on the narrow path with our arms around 
each other, in the old way. 
PhiHp. How many people in a lifetime are there for 
whom we deeply care? Not so very many. Here is one 
of mine. Wedon'tchoosethem; they simply arrive in our 
love, and perhaps depart. Yet they bring with them, 
however briefly, all we know of happiness. knd 

One City that Cares- 
Enough to Hake Every Mother's 


Dream Gome True 


AN EDITORIAL: This is the second of a series 
of articles in the Ladies' Home Journal on day-care 
needs for OUT children. 7 hese are by no weans 
exclusively the children of poor or even just of em- 
ployed mothers. They are the children of every mother 
who becomes ill; or wants to give time to civic work; 
or continue her education; or devote herself to her 
younger children without neglecting the older ones. 
In other words, we are concerned with every mother's 
right to live a full life without sacrificing her chil- 
dren's well-being. 

This is a problem that affects nearly every woman 
during the most important years of her life — years 
that offer both her greatest happiness and. too often, 
the smothering sensation of having no place to turn. 

This is a problem that most mothers must face alone, 
without any good answer, yet it receives less attention 
than diaper rash, formulas, or breast-feeding. 

When a mother has to work (there are more mothers 
in our labor force today than ever), who takes care 
of her young children? When the non-working mother 
is sick, what kind of help is available at the end of 
the telephone? This is a time when generations are 
apart, separated by miles and interests. Grandmother 
IS not part of many households today. But this prob- 
lem is. One fifth of all children under 14 must be 
cared for by someone other than their mothers during 
part or all of each day. 

In a day when even teachers have unions, when 
minorities have organizations, when industry has 

lobbyists, the trapped mother has a reluctant neigh- 
bor, an inexperienced youngster, a feeble relative, or 
an untrained but overpaid sitter. At best, during the 
long daylight hours, the child may get watched. At 
worst, frightened, repressed, or abused. 

White House conferences have been considering 
the fate of "dependent children" since 1909, and 
organized efforts began in 1958 with the formation of 
the National Committee for Day Care of Children. 
Inc. Yet, by 1966 only eight states have made the 
first realistic beginnings on day-care programs. 

This is why four American First Ladies—all 
mothers and homemakers — have joined forces with 
the Journal to claim this family birthright. 

—The Editor 

It is 6:15 A.M. at the Caroline 
(Ireen Day Care Center in Houston, 
Texas. The squat, faded-yellow brick 
buildinK, once a private nine-room 
residence, suddenly glows with light. 
Mrs. Audrey Gray, the center's di- 
rector, has arrived to start her 12- 
hour working day. A tiny, slender woman in her early sixties, she has 
soft gray hair, bright blue eyes and an incredible su|)]ily of purix)seful 
energy. A', one of her staff members says: "She is like a dear, kind, 
C(x)kie-baking grandma on a surfboard." 

By 6:25 four teachers- Dorothy Audas, Vera Gookin, Geraldine 
Hart and Deloras Ibarra— are on duty, preparing to welcome 75 
youngsters to another day in their second home. 

At 6:30 the children begin to arrive. First is Bobby Gibson, nine 
years old, son of Fred Gibson, a college student who works part time in 
a garage to help pay his tuition. Bobby's mother helps, too by work- 
ing as a secretary. 

Mrs. Gray stands just inside the front door, holding a flashlight. She 
says, "Good morning, Bobby." He oi)ens his mouth and sticks out his 
tongue; it is a cooperative, routine gesture. Mrs. Gray (lashes the light 
on his tonsils to see whether he has a red throat— the first sign of many 
illnesses. He passes inspection. Then he is given the flashlight to inspect 
Mrs. Gray's throat— a privilege of the earliest arrival only. 

"OK, you look healthy- you can stay, too," Bobby says. He re- 
turns the flashlight. 

Next comes Ellen, age four, wearing a yellow jumper, black knitted 
turtleneck pullover, black leotards. Ellen is an only child. Her father 
was killed in an automobile crash two years ago; her mother has worked 
ever since. Ellen smiles shyly and holds out a welcoming hand to 
Kenny, a scowling, thoughtful six-year-old. He shows her an automo- 
bile model— a black Cadillac convertible— which he assembled and 
painted all by himself the night before. 

"My uncle gave it to me," he says proudly. " I put it together after 
supper in only ninety-seven minutes." 

"That's wonderful !" Ellen responds, eyes shining. 
This is how the day begins at a good child-care center— a place de- 
signed to supervise, protect and care for children whose parents love 
them, but cannot possibly care for them 24 hours a day without help. 

In the United States, there are 
still nearly a million children under 
age 14 who have no adult super- 
vision during part or all of every 
day. There are no day-care centers 
for them. Nor are there any to serve 
the more than 10 million others who 
are being looked after inadequately— by neighbors, baby-sitters, maids 
or elderly relatives— while their parents work, at jobs or in community 
affairs, or while they attend to other family matters. 

This crisis in American family care is now acute. Every child-care 
authority in the nation has warned that continued neglect of this need 
for good, publicly supported day -care centers in every community is, in 
fact, right now endangering the lives and welfare of all children. 

In Houston, and in a very few other enlightened cities, pioneers in 
the historic movement for day care have begun to answer the need. As 
part of the Journal's campaign for this urgent, long-denied family 
birthright, the story of Houston's fight for day care— and how it is 
being won— deserves to be told. 

The front door at the Caroline Green Center has begun to swing 

open now at 30-second intervals. An assortment of cars pulls up to de- 
liver the children, and the early arrivals rush to the windows to watch. 
The grandest entrance is made by an eight-year-old boy who arrives in 
the front cab of a flatbed truck with an orange bulldozer chained to its 
rear. He is a new boy, and the truck is clearly the Center's status car. 

At 8:20 a Volkswagen school bus slides up to the curb, to pick up 24 
youngsters who are old enough to attend public school, and who need 
the day-care center only before and after school hours, until their par- 
ents come home from work. They are trundled off to the McGregor 
Public School, seven blocks away. They will be back at three o'clock. 
Although many of the day-care youngsters live in other school districts, 
transfers to the McGregor school have been arranged. 

The Caroline Green Center and its three Houston afifiliates- the Ann 
Taylor Center, the Myra Stevens Center and the Pasadena Center- 
work with an annual budget of more than $300,000. They serve 700 
children, own equipment worth $25,000— and, most important, have 
assembled a qualified 70-member staff who deeply care about their work. 

Moreover, the Houston day-care 
centers have still another invalua- 
ble asset — a brilliant, hard-work- 
ing, and tirelessly good-humored 
director named Malcolm Host. A 
boyish-looking 39-year-old, despite 
the gray in his hair, and glasses. Host 
is a sociologist, with the appearance of a physically fit intellectual. 

"A great many people associate day-care centers with slum dwellers, 
welfare cases and pious do-gooders," he told us. "They feel the problem 
will never touch them. But they're wrong. 

"Day-care centers now are middle class," he said. "Of course, we 
have welfare children, too, and children from divided or damaged 
homes— but the large number of kids enrolled here have stable parents 
who love them very much. The mere fact that they sought us out for 
help shows how much they care. 

"It bothers me," he went on, waving his arms vigorously, "when 
well-meaning legislators say that establishing day-care centers will en- 
courage women to leave their children. That a mother's place is in the 
home. Maybe it is and maybe it isn't— every case is different — but the 
main thing is that married women with children are already out work- 
ing—millions of them. And there will be more. A few are undoubtedly 
working for kicks or to relieve boredom. Some have artistic or intellec- 
tual needs. Many work because society desperately needs them— 
teachers, nurses, volunteer workers. And many more who would far 
rather stay home just desperately need a paycheck. 

" You've heard all this, of course, but I see it all every day. So many 
women who come in here to enroll their children are defensive or act 
guilty. We try to calm them down. We say, ' You're here because we're 
here, and we're here because you're here. We're all doing our jobs, so 
forget it.' " He leaned back in his wooden chair, rocked energetically for 
a minute, and spoke again, with ringing conviction : 

" I think we have to face the fact that day -care centers today are 
where nursery schools were twenty years ago, and kindergartens were 
fifty years ago. Such centers are a growing need, and in the long run 
will contribute to our health and prosperity, not detract from it." 

Vigorous thinking by people like Malcolm Host, spiced with faith 
and sparked by action, have put the Houston day-care-center system in 
its present admirable groove. The system is 14 years old, founded in 
1952 by a group of men and women who saw the need for day care in 
the course of their work with the Houston Family and Child Welfare 
Organization. The day-care center's first {continued on page 98) 


Z hlald^^^^^ 1 ^'l^-f^^f'-"^^ —'s ,n men? The lovable new knits, of course, u huh make women look so softly seduc 

worn, short, u rth texture-y stockings, strapp.y, low-heeled shoes). Their husbands found them utterly irresistible. By TRUDY OWETT, Fashion Editor. 

'^Id^^^V^K^'r^r^r " "^^'"y^ "'"^ "y"'^ '" ' l^>"^-^le-'-i^h,ft, softly gathered at neck and wrists. Of 

uool knit by Leo >.arducct for Guy D, sues 6^16, $33. Enhnet tights are by R.,nul the Clock. Agnetta s husband is television producer Stan Dragoti. 

Pholo«rapht by M«lvln Sokoltfcy; hairdo* by Raymond Cottanlinl 


Happiness is a crosstou n cab ride and a kitten-soft lilac dress fretted with cinnamon hexagons, its long, eased sleeves ending in ruffled cuffs. Of wool 
and nylon knit, Emery Knits by Micia Jr. of Rome, sizes 3-13, $40. Sandy's husband is British architect Martin Colder. Fishnet tights are by Adler. 



The romantic lead here — luscious orange and magenta dress, divided into a square-neck pullover top and pleated skirt. Of wool knit by Gerald Fierce 
for Marbemi, 3-13, 6-16, $30. Cynthia's husband is actor Patrick O'Neal. He stars in the new film. " Matchless" and "A Fine Madness." 

Shopping information on page 94 

Rug from A. Bestiar & Co. 

This summer brings a different way of 
looking— different from last winter and 
summers past different by night and day. 

First big difference; Switchable hair, a 
new kind of fakery to fool with. Hair that 
goes from fashionably short to fashionably 
long and back again according to your 
moods. The new Dynel hair switches make 
this kind of quick-change artistry possible. 
You can buy one for as Irttle as $4. Above, 
nighttime look, hair switched on: opposite, 
sunshine look, no-switch hair. 

Next big difference: Flamboyant eyes, 
worked with a new palette of rea/ colors in 
place of last year's quiet neutrals. By day, 
colorful eyes look right behind the color- 
ful visofs you'll probably be wearing (ours, 
opposite, by Flowermodes, $1). By night, 
eyes that are almost Technicolor— striped, 
banded, poika-iotte<*— (ook right with new 
sumr-t,^ c-r - ^jgf,j gygg above. 

Thirr: ^- ^ Sunshine lips that 

say good-bye to paled, whitened colors 
(colors that .he rest of this 

vibrant new ^ ^ ^,e!io, now. to 

lusoous, $un-ripened p i", with buift-tn 
gloss or gJossed over by / _ For how to 
make these differences, se>- Project You, 
page 46. By Susan Harney, Beauty Editor. 

M»f tfy StOeu of MM MouM o» ('•vior. 


1. Switchable Hair 

2. Flamboyant Eyes 

3. Sunshine Lips 


jvaexican is one ot the most varied cuisines in the 
world — a dazzling potpourri from Spain, Britain, 
France, Denmark and North America — melded wj^h 
indigenous Mayan and Aztec foods and spices. It was 
in Mexico that Europeans learned to use tomatoes, 
vantlla, chilies, avocados, potatoes and chocolate. 
The Art of Mexican Cooking (Doubleday, $4.95), 

our Journal condensation for July, is a new and al- 
ready recognized authority. The scope is splendid, 
iyom aperltivos (appetizers) through postres y 
du!ce^ (desserts and confections). From the book we 
have selected several complete menus. 
The one pictured on these shelves: "Avo- 
cado Souo." uore*- 'eft: "Drunken Tur- 

tledoves," upper right; "M r r : ^-.l 

■'Little Spinach Crowns," '. .. r;: 3^:. = :.^^ v. ::h 
Rum," lower right. In addition to colorful descriptions 
of recipes, authors Jan Aaron and Georgine Sachs 
Salom have a section on fiesta foods and a comprehen- 
sive guide to all the various chilies, beans, fosfadas 
tortillas and spices. Selected reciF>es begin on page S~ 




( Or, Love That Bombe) 

A bombe is an ice, ice cream, 
mousse or parfait in its most 
elei^^nt incarnation — to be eaten 
under glistening crystal chan- 
delier.s with an intricate silver 
spoon. A bombe is a shape with 
rainbow l.tyc rs of different fla- 
vors frr>zei. ": gether. So popu- 
lar was the bombe during the 
age 'A Lafayette, that Prosper 
Monti i?n'l wrote, "It was soon 
the invariable custom to serve 

a Bombe Glacee at the end of 
any formal meal." Escoffier lists 
87 combinations and we have 
eight of these classic bombes 
among our recipes. 

Why have we come to love 
the bombe so? Because it's the 
easiest grand-slam dessert in 
the world— and perfect for the 
hottest summer day. Why slap 
raspberry sherbet in a dish 
when you could pack it whirl- 

whirl into a watermelon shell 
in two layers, as we did here, a 
layer of chocolate pieces in be- 
tween? Eureka! You have a 
Watermelon Bombe that can 
be sliced, served in wedges, 
the rest stored in the freezer 
till another Big Moment. Next 
step — a watermelon made en- 
tirely of ice cream, with a "rind" 
of pistachio. Other frosty finales 
include Coupe Jacques and an 

Instant Charlotte Russe. Looks 
like hours of work. Feeling 
more ambitious? Build bombes 
from your own, handmade, in- 
stant sherbets in fabulous fla- 
vors like Pomegranate and 
Passion Fruit. Or rival Grand- 
mother's homemade ice 
cream— we have some of the 
wildest tricky ways to do it. 
Recipes begin on page 89. 
By POPPY CANNON, Food Editor 

Things to Do 
with Refrigerated 
CJcMhie Dough 




ar's round and cold and coconut, butterscotch, 
mel chip, peanut butter, oatmeal raisin, nut, 
intgif. chocolate chip and sugar-eookie flavored? 
"Vi'iiai hides in the refrigerator and turns into tortes, 
cakes.^cookies and tarts? Just wave your magic wand 
i we mortals call it a rolling pin > over a roll of re- 
frigerated cookie dough and find out ! With a roll of 
the magic stuff, a can of chocolate frosting and a can 
c i chopped r.uTs. ycu can produce in mere minutes a 
VIENNESE PRINZ TORTE: Let a 14.S-OZ. pkg. refrigera- 
ted nut-cookie dough soften at room temperature. 
Di\ide dough m 4 parts; roll each one between 2 
sheets of waxed paper to Vg-in. thickness. Using 8-in. 
cake pan as guide, cut four 8-in. circles from dough. 
ReroU scraps to make a fifth circle. Bake on un- 
greased cookie sheets at 375' for 10-12 minutes, until 
golden. Cool on wire racks. Sandwich layers together, 
and frost with a can of refrigerated chocolate frosting. 
Press - j cup flaked almonds onto sides. Serves S. 
Good neighbor of Viennese princes and fellow lover 
of Prinz Tortes, we trust i was waltz-king Johann 
Strauss, for whom was named the JOHANN STRAUSS 
TORTE; Di\-ide, roll out and bake a 14.!v-oz. pkg. re- 
frigerated sugar-cookie dough as described in recipe 
for PriTiZ Torte, above. Beat ' ^ cup softened butter 
or margarine with 2 cups sifted confectioners' sugar 
;r.v;; smooth. Fold in ' 2 cup chopped walnuts and ?4 
maple-flavored s>Tup. (If not stiff enough for 
:'' isting, beat in ,'4 cup more confectioners' sugar, t 
I' 5+ 'o sandwir-h layers together. Whip 1 cup hea\'y 
2 tablespoons confectioners' 
randy. Use to frost sides and 
-. Ci..ii before sening. Ser\'es 8. 
might tr>' with refrigerated cookie 
r'-fri?eraT*-'i --rar-'-' •'.■■■^gn 

■ ' iiT(-'.f-r nut- 

:T (iradually 
— ;"".;>.•> at a 
- a;.<l '4 cup 

■ ■^\.:^tOB onto 
'. hour at 

■^]y (4-5 


250 . Turr; 

en off anc 

hours ^, or remove and eat warm. Makes aboat 3^^ 
doz«i. Absolutdy no time to fiiss? Quick Margher- 
ites not quick raioogh.? Try these SUPER-QUICK 
MAR6HERITES: Top bakec r>= r 
eocmiat) witli laige mars 

ovw for 2 minutes. Squas:. ...i. ; . . _ ? rn- 
gers. Bake 1-2 minutes Iwiger. 
Starr with sugar-cookie !ay«s, fill and frost, and they 
become a RUSSIAN MERINGUE CAKE: Cut a 14.S-OZ. 
pkg. refrigeraied sugar-;-: ; kie d; ugh in 5 pieces. Roll 
each piece between 2 sheets of waxed paper until it 
measures 9x5 'r. h-s Bik-f i' ?~5- 'or 10-12 min- 
utes. C - rrs togetha- 
with 1 ... -.ij^r .. ^th '2 cup 
chopped candied cherries. Beat o cup egg whites (4 
large until stiff. Gradually beat in ^ 2 cup supofine 
sugar until mixture is smooth and gloss>-. Cover cookie 
sheet with brown paper and place cake in ooiter. 
Frost with moingue. Bake at 450" for 5-S minutes, 
until meringue is pale golden brown. Ser\ es S. 
The Danes wiQ tell you that cookie dough also makes 
a very ^lecial kind of pie dough — although they caO 
the final glor> a DANISH APPLE CAKE: Let a 14.g-0K. 
pkg. refrigerated nut-cookie dough come to room tem- 
perature. Press it out to covo- bottom of a 15x10- in. 
jelly-roll pan completely. Toss 6 cups 1 3 lb. 1 ^ced 
apples with 1 cup sugar, and spread over dough. ( Or 
use two 1-lb. cans pie-sliced apples, weU drained.) 
Mix 1 cup flour with ^2 cup sugar and 1 teaspoon 
cinnamon. Cut in I4 cup butter or margarine, as for 
pastr>-. Sprinkle crumb miimire over apples. Bake 
at 375' for 45 minutes. Cool in pan and cut in 3x2-in. 
oblongs. Makes 25. 

.\nother delicious way that cookie dough can end up 
a.' a ; >ast r>- base is in golden-hued APRICOT TART BOR- 
DELAISE: Cut a 14.8-oz. pkg. refrigerated sugar- 
coukie dough in half. ( Wrap one half in plastic uTap 
and save for Freeform Cookies, right. I Prom other half 
cut 8 slices, *i in. thick. Cut slices in half and set 
aside. Pat rest of dough over bottom of 9-inch spring- 
form pan • ake pan. Place half-circles of 
dough aroi. -t-Hiung into place. Bake at 375' 
far 12 15 ni. ,....<•>. Cool in pan. Remove sides of 
spring-form pan (or if umng layer-cake pan, invert 

car^uDy onto wire racki. Pr^nre a 8^«-oz. pkg. 
vanilla pudding and pie filling mix following lab^ di- 
Tr nons, but reduce milk to l^^ cups. When cool. 
i^ reaA over cookie base. Top with a 1-lb. can refi- 
diained aprieot halves isave the juice!*, cut-side 
down. Bra^ ^Micots with a 3-<k. pkg. lan<m-flarored 
gelatin made with 1 cup apricot juice and dulled 
until syrupy. Brush outside edge of cookie shell with 
2 tablespoons strained apricot pre»^'es; press or 
t^ cup cradled cmnfiakes. ChilL Serve 6-8. 
To make op-arty cocdd^ you need two doughs wfao£<r 
colais contrast, in any flavors >'ou like. We use: 
sugar-cocdde and fudge-cookie dough, and oS wr 
went to PIHWHEEIS: Let a pkg. of light-colored r^ 
bigerated cookie dough and one of daric color come 
to room temperature. If rolls of dough aren't the 
same length, cut <^ end of longer one. wrap it ir. 
plastic wrap and sa\*e it for later use. Now cut both 
rolls of dough in half lengthwise. Roll out ail 4 pieces 
of dough imtil about 14 in. long. 12 in. wide. Place 
dark dough on tap oi light dough and roll up like a 
jdly roll. 2 rolls of pinwbeel dough. ChiU at 

least 1 hour. Cut in ^4-in. slices and bake on tm- 
greased cookie sheets for 10-12 minutes at 375\ 
Makes about a dosen. 

When the Pinwheds have >'ou spinning, straighten 
out your eyesight by zeroing in on BUIXSEYES: Let 
a pkg. of light refrigerated cookie dough and one 
of dark soften at room tonperature. Cut both in half 
lengthwise. Roll the 2 pieces of dark dough back and 
forth with hands tmtil rounded and same length as 
light dough. Roll out light dough into two 14x6-in. 
rectangles. Wrap rectangles of light dough around 
roUs of dark dough, making 2 rolls of buUaej-e dough. 
Chill at least 1 hour. Slice >4 in. thick and bake on 
ungreased cookie sheets at 375' for 10-12 minutes. 
Makes about 6 dozen. 

Leftover scraps of dough, as well as untouched rolls, 
turn themsdves obligingly into FRCEFOMiS: Cut 
> 4-inch slices from rolls of light and dark refrigerated 
cookie dough. Form into fat crescents mith fingers. 
Cut off parts of creacenu and replace «-ith dough of 
different color. Bake on ungreased cookie sheets at 
375' for 1012 roinutca. kmo 

Chicken Noodle Soup and a sandwich 



Try this on your appetite. 
A jumbo sandwich with delicious, 
warming soup to make a meal of 
it. Quick! Reach for the Campbell's. 
It's right on your shelf. 

They always eat better 

when you remember the soup. 


to the ''I Hate to Cook Book'' 

The inimitable Peg Bracken leads the way into the kitchen 
for that daily anticlimax— preparing dinner. Her tips on what to do 
when you get there will make life ever so much easier. 

Early one spring morning, a year ago, I was 
awakened by a strong urge to write a second 
Cook Book — an urge as astonishing as it was 
disconcerting. I had long ago said my last 
word on the subject, or so I felt. Too, I was 
well into the writing of another book, purpose- 
fully as far away from kitchens as you can go. 

It is true that I've frequently been asked 
when I would write the I Still Hate to Cook 
Book. But my sincere reply was usually Never. 
Or — for variation, perhaps — when the cows 
come home. On skateboards. The fact that I 
stUl hate to cook was or should have been, I 
thought, self-evident. You don't recover from 
hating to cook, any more than you get over 
having big feet. Why, then, this compulsion? 
I had to muddle it over in my mind. 

One primary reason, I presently suspected, 
was the people who have cooked and eaten 
gallantly of the recipes in my first book and 
who have written to me or talked to me about 
it. More, they have mentioned ideas they 
think should have appeared in it, as weU as 
some areas I hadn't touched upon. 

Another reason is that in the past few years 
I have unintentionally made some culinary dis- 
coveries, mainly involving prepared foods and 
easier ways to do things. I am well aware 
that — to skilled and ardent cooks — my inno- 
cent pride in these findings wiU resemble that 
of the little man who showed up at the Patent 
Office last year with his new invention, de- 
signed for talking across distances, which he 
had named "the telephone." 

But honesty must out. If these things come 
as news to even a few, I will consider my 
efforts well spent. 


All days lead but to the kitchen, or so it 
often seems at 5 P.M. These uninspired but de- 
pendable recipes have all been reluctantly 
tested and somewhat more cheerfully ap- 
proved, by women who hate to cook. They call 
for no mysterious ingredients, and measure- 
ments are as clearly stated as possible. 

Also, they try to explain what to expect — 
for instance, if there's any doubt, how long a 
process takes. Recipes that don't are discon- 
certing. ^Like "Beat egg yolks till thick and 
lemon-cfjlored." I've never noticed that my 
''gg yolks change color enough to get excited 
abfjut, and as for thick, they start that way.) 

Another thing: most of these recif)e8 sj)ecify 
covered or uncovered. If they don't, it's be- 
cause it doesn't matter. (By the way, it's 
gfxxl t() remember the virtues of aluminum 
foil, should you ever find yourself midstream 
in a recipe that demand.) wvering, and the 
pot you are UBing is lidleas. ) 


One more troubUng thing for cookbook 
writers is explaining how many people a recipe 
serves. Actually, of course, who knows? It 
depends on the people and the menu. So I've 
pussyfooted by saying "servings," which 
means 4 servings could serve 4 people once or 2 
people twice or a high-school boy 4 times. 

So we'll wade into it now, with the following 
reasonably quick standby recipes, which taste 
good to us who make them. Some of them in- 
volve protein plus a vegetable or a starch, 
which saves your cooking something else. 
They'll all do what they are expected to do, 
the Lord willing and; the creek don't get up. 


(This is good with or without the horseradish 

sauce, but the sauce is certainly easy.) 

Settle a 3-4 pound fresh boneless beef 
brisket in a pot with a lid. Then add 
Enough water to cover the meat 
An onion cut in half 
A handful of celery tops or pieces 
Salt and coarse-ground pepper. 
Put the lid on and simmer it three or four 
hours, or tiU it's tender. 

Then, for the Horseradish Sauce: Add a 
tablespoon of lemon juice and half a cupful of 
horseradish to a can of cream sauce. (Or a cup 
of cream sauce you make, yourself.) A little 
more pepper is good in the sauce, too. 

This cheerfully variable ground-meat recipe 
is called Cornish Pasties if you are English, 
and — if you are a Scotsman — 


Makes 4 servings that would take care of 2 

people as an entree. 

A package of pastry mix 

y2 pound raw hamburger (or chopped leftover 

cooked or uncooked beef, veal, or lamb) 
A small carrot 
A small potato, diced 

A medium onion, chopped, or 1 tablespoon 

minced onion 
Salt & pepper 

Something to moisten it: 3 or 4 tablespoons of 
any soup or canned gravy or mushroom 
sauce, or \i cup bouillon, made with 3^ a 
cube or 3^ teaspoon powdered. 

Roll out the pastry and cut four circles the 
size of salad plates. Mix everything else, put a 
dolloj) of it on each circle, then fold your 
Bridies into half-moons, and seal the edges 
with a fork. Prick them, and bake at 400° for 
20 minutes. 

fif you brush them with egg white before 
baking, they'll have a shiny professional look.) 

Now, those Bridies can be completely pre- 
pared ahead, right up to baking them. Which 
brings us to an important truth which should 
be hand-lettered on the boudoir wall as a con- 
stant reminder: There's hardly a recipe that 
can't be interrupted at least three-quarters of 
the way along, with no ill effects, then finished 
shortly before dinner, AFTER YOU'VE RE- 

It is important to look at recipes in this 
light. What you do with it after you've stopped 
depends on what's in it and how long it will be 
before you staii; it again. I see no reason to re- 
frigerate something entirely cooked if I'm go- 
ing to reheat it in a few hours. I leave it on 
top of the stove. These things are everyone's 
own decision, I think, and they depend, too, 
on how full the refrigerator is. 

And now we come to the matter of when to 
cook; for a valuable thing to know about 
cooking besides how to get out of it is when to 
get into it. 

I wish I had learned earlier that for a girl 
who gets to the kitchen on reluctant feet, it is 
best to cook, whenever possible, at the more 
repellent times of the day. Just which are the 
more repellent times of the day is, clearly, 
everyone's own decision. I find that I am in 
general agreement with the old monastery 
maxim . . . "The morning is the Lord's and the 
evening is the angels' but the afternoon is the 

That is, I like to tend my own trade — 
writing — in the fresh mormng houre from 5 
A.M. to noon, which is time for a walk, lunch, 
and whatever else needs doing, till around 
three. I wouldn't dream of spoiling an evening 
with cooking, nor a cocktail hour. So, mid- 
afternoon is my time to cook when I do, for I 
seldom can think of anything bright to do with 
midaftemoons anyway. 

If my office were elsewhere, or if I had very 
small children now, this wouldn't work. I'd 
have to think of something else. But I would 
still choose, to the extent that I could, what- 
ever hour seemed most generally pointless — 
an hour is about it, too. It is astounding what 
you can do in an hour if you have to. 

The following ground-beef affair is a Com- 
bination or Casserole, and it might be well to 
take a hard look at the casserole before we get 
into it. 

Most men don't regard the casserole too 
highly. You seldom hear a man reply, if you're 
so foolish as to ask him what he'd like for din- 
ner, "Why don't you make that good prune- 

If you retitle it a Stew or a Goulash, it 
stands a slightly better chance with him. Even 

Copyrliiht t^ lVbb b/ P«| Bracken 



so, he'd rather have a piece of meat, or, 
at any rate, a hamburger in recogniz- 
able form. 

Remember, too, that a casserole is 
economical only when it's to serve a lot 
iif people, or when it is creatively con- 
cocted out of odds and ends by a good 
cook who loves to. She also knows how 
to serve it with aplomb, but unfortu- 
nately this doesn't come in cans. 

The rest of us wouldn't dare clean out 
the refrigerator for a casserole, nor 
want to. We simply go 
buy the pimientos and 
all the other things the 
recipe demands. Which 
doubles or triples the 
cost of the ground beef 
we could have served 

Yet there are times, 
even in the life of the re- 
luctant cook, when she 
feels an inner need to 
make a casserole - after 
she's tasted a good one 
somewhere else, per- 
haps. Or when she is in a 
rare nesting mood and 
the wind is right. A man 
is wise to let his wife 
have these occasional 
marabou moments, too. 
He probably isn't 100 
percent perfect, himself. 


An eggplant, sliced In 

half-Inch slices 
Olive oil 

1 lb. ground beef 

Salt & pepper 

A jar of spaghetti sauce 
(1-lb. size) preferably 
with mushrooms in it. 
If it has no mush- 
rooms, add a jar of the 
broiled-in-butter kind 
cup grated Parmesan 
or Romano cheese. 

In a liitle oil, pan- 
fry the eggplant slices 
on both sides till they're 
light brown. Drain them 
on paper towels while 
you pan-fry half as 
many hamburgers as 
you have eggplant slices. 
( You'll have to add more 
oil because the eggplant 
really soaks it up.) 

In a shallow casserole 
dish, layer the eggplant 
slices— hamburgers be- 
tween them. Cover it all 
with the sauce, top with 
the cheese. Bake it un- 
covered for 20 minutes 
at 350°. 


(2-3 servings 
I A good fast dinner 
when you've an eye on 
the clock and a foot in 
the flypaper > 

Cook 7 3 cup of rice. Lightly pan-fry 
a one-pound ham sHce. Put it on an 
oven-proof platter if you have one, and 
on a pan if you don't. Pile the rice on it, 
grate yellow cheese generous'.y on top of 
the rice, and place it under a hot broiler 
for five minutes or so till the cheese 

To round things out, you could ar- 
range canned peach halves around it be- 
fore you broil it, first putting a little 
brown sugar and butter into their hol- 
lows. But there isn't always time to 
round things out. 

Next comes a slightly different ap- 

proach to pork chops. Now, certainly, 
different doesn't always mean better. 
Recipes that boast like that always re- 
mind me — well, not always, but they 
did right then— of the inscription on the 
Scottish tombstone: "Lay down your 
burden and follow me." To which a 
shrewd passerby had appended a neat 
sign — "To follow you I won't consent 
Until I know which way you went." 

What is different about the next rec- 
ipe is the soy sauce, which gives a slight 

Sole is an In fish, as you may have no- 
ticed. Many a cook depends on her little 
sole recipe as many another girl counts 
on her basic black. You might try count- 
ing on this one if you're not already 

BODDIAN SOLE (3-4 servings ) 

You start with a pound of sole, or 4 

large fillets. Lay them out nicely in a 

baking dish. Mix 

1 can undiluted mushroom soup 
Vz cup shrimp 

Now! More body-building protein than a 
peanut butter sandwich. And lots more fun. 

Something new for lunch. Chef Boy-Ar-Dee Ravioli. Tender macaroni pies filled with beef- 
in a meaty tomato sauce. An average serving. 4 can. of Chef Boy-Ar-Dee Ravioli has more 
itl'jj ^ protein than a bologna, boiled ham or peanut butter sandwich. And twice as much protein 
as a seven oz. bowl of split pea soup, four times more than beef noodle. Chef Boy-Ar-Dee 
Ravioli is better for lunch than most soups or sandwiches — and children love it. 

Chef Boy-Ar-Dee Ravioli 
(Bite-size Beef Pies) 

Oriental aura to the chops, and some 
think it improves them. 

APRICOT PORK CHOPS ( 6 servings) 

6 reasonably thick pork chops 
1 medium onion, finely chopped 

1 medium can apricot halves 

2 tablespoons soy sauce 

A green pepper thinly sliced if you like it 

Into a paper bag put a little flour, salt, 
pepper, and then the chops. Shake them 
firmly. Brown them in the fat you 
trimmed off, then add the apricots, 
onion, and soy sauce. Simmer it half an 
hour covered and half an hour uncov- 
ered. If you aim to add the green pepper, 
do it 1 5 minutes before the chops are done. 

V2 cup white wine 

and pour it over the fish. Let it stand 3 
hours, and more wouldn't matter. 

Finally, sprinkle it with cup Par- 
mesan cheese and bake it uncovered for 
20 minutes at 400". 

A word about wine, by the way, inas- 
much as we just passed some. There is a 
great deal of it around, and those little 
old winemakers are understandably 
anxious that we use it up. One finds 
some fairly improbable wine recipes. 
The winemakers like wine in cinnamon 
toast, on pork chops, in baked beans, in 
tuna salad. . . . 

But not everyone does. Here you must 

keep a cool head, and taste it on your 
mind's tongue first. If it tastes good 
there, then try it. But be cautious about 
quantity. There is a Let's-throw-away- 
the-chicken-and-drink-the-gra\->' school 
that it's best to steer clear of. 

As to the grade of wine to use in cook- 
ing, there is disagreement. Some good 
cooks say, any kind. Other good cooks 
say use the same wine in cooking that 
you'll serve later at the table. (I'll bet 
they don't always do it themselves, 
though, when it's a mat- 
ter of a fine old \'intage 
Bordeaux. ) 

The main considera- 
tion, it seems to me, 
should be the basic 
flavor— strong or slight— 
of the dish itself. Nu- 
ances are lost in a hearty 
beef stew that's redo- 
lent of onions and garlic. 
But a custard or a deli- 
cate fish is only as good 
as the wine is. 


For 4 chops or steaks, 
mix about ' 2 cup blue 
cheese with a few drops of 
hot-pepper sauce and a 
teaspoon of Worcester- 
shire. Have this ready. 

Rub the chops or 
steaks with a cut garlic 
clove and broil them, 
about 4 inches from the 
heat. If they are an inch 
and a half thick, broil 10 
minutes, a little less if 
they're thinner. Turn 
them over then, spread 
the cheese mixture on 
the up side, and broil 
them another five. 

Before we leave the 
kitchen, a word here on 
the important matter of 
keeping a stiff upper lip. 

When you hate to 
cook, another ailment 
you probably suffer 
from, besides apathy, is 
the inability to judge 
correctly yoiu- own work. 
In those low moments, 
should the whole dinner 
taste a little seedy, you 
must remember that it 
probably doesn't to 
other people. You had a 
better chance than they 
did to get tired of the 

Neither is the meal 
quite so glorious as you 
may think, in those rare 
euphoric moments when 
the souffle soars and the salad dressing 
sings (remember, you're exceptionally 
fond of anchovies i. The truth usually 
lurks somewhere in the middle. 

It can also help if you will scrutinize 
critically an occasional restaurant meal. 
Then, after you've eaten a slice of tired 
salami with a pickled mushroom— 
which passed for antipasto— plus a card- 
board cutlet, a too-^'inega^^• salad, and 
grocery store ice cream that called itself 
Spumoni, ask yourself if you could have 
imblushingly charged $5.-50 for that. 

(Another installment from Peg Br.ack- 
en's Appendix in the August Journal.) 


1. The 1st of July to the 4th are Old 
Milwaukee Days. Time for circus pa- 
rades and baking olden favorites, like 
The Moor— a dark chocolate cake; Des- 
demona — a white cake; Bismarck slices — 
a spiral jelly doughnut. 

2. Pennsylvania Dutch Folk Festival 
starts at Kutztown. So fill a jar with Red 
Beet Eggs: Cover a dozen hard-cooked 
eggs with extra-spicy garlicky juice from 
pickled beets. Cover, store in refrigerator. 
Don't touch . . . yet. 

3. To sweeten the air and please the spir- 
its, in Hong Kong, they burn sea moss— 
that's carrageen. A pinch goes into festive 
rice dishes. Carrageen is now an ingre- 
dient in an instant no-bake custard mix- 
so add a cup of cooked rice to said cus- 
tard along with some candied ginger, and 
Zut ! Dragon Boat Pudding. 

4. On the Glorious Fourth, it's a New 
England tradition to feast on poached sal- 
mon with egg sauce, little boiled potatoes 
in their chemises, baby green peas. 

5. How now Black Cow. Today is P.T. 
(supercircusman) Barnum's birthday. 
Hail him with a mug of root beer, a float 
of ice cream, a peppermint stick to stir. 

6. Heyday of the Hass — the summertime 
avocado, whose skin is supposed to be a 
rough, pebbly black. 

7. For enchantment in a patio or on a back 
porch — California Tacos: Brown sepa- 
rately a pound of sausage meat, a pound 
of ground beef. Drain on paper towels and 
save fat. Add a cup of coarsely chopped 
walnuts, 2 cups coarsely grated American 
cheese, }4 cup stuffed pitted olives, sliced, 
1 (10-oz.) can condensed cream of mush- 
room soup, 1 teaspoon chili powder. Cook 
mixture for 5 minutes. Lightly brown 
12 tortillas on both sides in the sausage 
fat. Drain on paper towels. Enwrap the 
meat mixture. 

8. Not a tortilla in sight? Use that same 
taco filling in hollowed French rolls. Wrap 
in foil. Ten minutes in a 400° oven. 

9. Pennsylvania Dutch Folk Festival 
ends. Pickled Eggs may be tasted now. 
According to our owti W. W. Parish, 
"Eggs are eatable, barely, within a week. 
At one month, they are going into their 
ripe stage. May be eaten with beer and 
gusto, or can be merely left in the icebox 
as a status symbol and loved." 

10. On a long, lazy Sunday evening — 
Alaskan King Crab Legs, bought frozen 
anywhere. Whack into holdable chunks 
to serve with a mustardy mayonnaise. 

U. Chowder days are here. We come 
close to the Cape Cod triumph with a can 
of condensed New England-style clam 

chowder plus a can of whole clams with 
liquid, a soup can of milk, 2 tablespoons 
butter or margarine, ' 2 teaspoon Worces- 
tershire. A flash of paprika. 

12. Always today, on Oscar Hammer- 
stein's birthday, there would have been 
his favorite chicken, broiled ever so slowly 
and lovingly basted with white wine and 
fresh tarragon sent up from his farm in 
Bucks County, Pa. 

13. Night of the Flaming Torches in 
Paris. Dancing in the streets. Lanterns 
swinging from long poles. And always a 
champagne punch. 

14- Bastille Day. Cannons are fired 100 
times. Lunch in the rose garden is a Quiche 
of Chicken Livers: '2 cup quartered, 
sauteed, arranged on an 8-inch unbaked 
pie shell. Pour on 4 eggs, beaten slightly 
with 1 cup light cream, } 2 teaspoon salt, 
speck of cayenne. Bake at 350° for 35 
minutes or until browned. 

15. St. Swithin was comforted by apples. 
As who wouldn't be by the little Yellow 
Transparents, the big red striped Graven- 
steins, the green, juicy Summer Starrs? 

IG. For the feast of Our Lady of Carmel, 
all must be colorful, even the sugar. So 
we add 1 drop of red, 1 drop of yellow 
vegetable coloring, 4 tablespoons grated 
orange rind to 1 cup sugar. Whirr in 
blender. Let dry overnight. Lovely to 
serve with tea, to sprinkle on desserts. 

17. National Rabbit Week. And did you 
know that tender young rabbit is lowest 
in calories of all meats? Easy to cook, 
just like chicken— only a little longer, 
since they are meatier. And rabbits now 
leap conveniently out of any freezer. 

18. Want a fine sweet sauce for free? 
Boil for 10 minutes the syrups from 
canned fruits. Flavor with y-j teaspoon 
vanilla or 1 tablespoon rum extract. 

19. Adam Abel of Lake San Marcos, 
Calif., won a Wood-n-Stream contest 
with his recipe for Quail with Blueberries. 
Works with tiny chickens, squab or Cor- 
nish game hens, too. Rub inside and out 
with salt, pepper, salad oil and lemon 
juice. Hide a half cup of blueberries 
sprinkled with ' 2 teaspoon sugar inside 
each bird. Skewer or sew shut. A dab of 
butter or margarine, a scrap of bay leaf, 
a loose-wrap of foil. Roast, breast-down, 
at 400° for 1 hour. 

20. When the moon is young and your 
own lettuce tall enough to pick -a salad 
of tuna and artichoke hearts, scattered 
with capers, ringed with nasturtiums. 

21. Make merry-lotjking loaves from apri- 
cot-nut bread mix baked in 4 greased and 
floured condensed soup cans 35 to 40 

minutes at 350°. Cool 10 minutes, turn 

22. Potato blossoms purpling and pinking 
the fields up Maine. 

23. Collect medicinal herbs, we are bid 
today. The monks still gamer and treat 
them in the old, quiet ways to make such 
liqueurs as Chartreuse and Benedictine. 

24. Serve Devilish Bouchees with chilled 
soups or cocktails. Slash crust from 8 
slices of white bread. Cut into 4 squares. 
Press down into small muflin tins. Toast 
lightly. Top with a blop of deviled ham, a 
4I2-OZ. can, mixed with '4 cup sour 
cream. Strew with grated cheese. Bake 
at 400° about 5 minutes. 

25. "He who eats shellfish on this day 
will never lack for money." Scallops are 
the rule, for even the name belongs to 
today's saint — Coquilles St. Jacques. 

26. Dasheens are in. But what is a dash- 
een? Elephant's ear leaves, also known as 
callalou, eddoes, tania, taro. The young 
shoots are cooked like asparagus, leaves 
like spinach, roots like potatoes. 

27. Poaching fruits sounds hard to do. 
But we have a wondrous new way. Boil 
together about 3 minutes 1 cup each 
sugar and water. Add 8 small whole 
peeled peaches, plums, apricots or nec- 
tarines. Bring to a full, bubbly boil all 
over. Cook about 2 minutes. Cover. Re- 
move from heat. Allow to stand at least 8 
minutes or until needed. 

28. Wild shrieks of approval from the 
Journal kitchen when we tasted the new 
bottled Green Goddess salad dressing. 
Marvelous re-creation of one of San 
Francisco's finest, created in 1915 at the 
Palace Hotel and named for actor George 
Arliss, then starring in a play called . . . 
guess what? 

29. Day of Martha, patron saint of cook- 
ery and housewives, whom the French 
call "the beloved worker for God," the 
Italians— "Hostess of Christ." 

30. "Legs Ahead" is what my neighbor's 
children call a casserole of chicken legs 
always cooked on Saturday for Sunday's 
supper. Brown 3 pounds of chicken legs. 
Heat 1 can condensed cream of chicken 
soup with ' 2 soup can milk, ' i teaspoon 
each poultry seasoning, salt and pepper. 
Pour over chicken legs in a 2-quart cas- 
serole. Mix in 1 small can each baby car- 
rots, white onions, lima beans, all drained. 
Bake at 375° for 30 minutes or refrigerate 
immediately and bake when needed — 
about 45 minutes. Six platefuls. 

31. Confucius said (he really did!) that 
all great dishes should have five facets a 
touch of bitter, a bit of sweet, a note of 
acid, a flick of i)epper, a touch of salt. 


■iliiiucd from pcuje 79 


(Avoeado Soup) 
( Drunken Turtledoves) 

(Mexican Mushrooms) 
(Little Spinach Crowns) 
(Bananas with Rum) 


asy way to mash the avo- 
idos for this souj): Cut them 
large chunks and whirl them 
the blender— alons with the 
earn about 20 to 30 seconds. 

tablespoon flour 
tablespoon butter or 

teaspoon onion juice 
cup tomatoes, peeled and 

cups meat stock (canned 
beef broth may be used)* 
It and pepper 

tablespoons cream 
tortillas or 3 slices of bread 

autc flour in butter or mar- 
irine. Add onion juice, to- 
atoes, stock, and salt and 
pper, and simmer till slightly 
lickeiu'd. Masii avocados 
'ith cream, and place in soup 
ureen. Pour thickened stock 
ver avocados. Serve with fried 
orlilla squares or bread 
quares. Serves 8. 

tUlitor»' iiole:'We prefer chicken brolh, 
(au-ie the color is lighter and muru 


riif theory behind this very 
>ld Mexican recipe is that the 
)irds get tipsy by sipping on 
he wine in (he pan. Substitute 
.(liiab or Rock Cornish game 
lens, if you so desire. 

} turtledoves 
/2 cup fat 

Vi cup warm brandy 
medium-sized tomatoes, 
I slice toasted white bread, 

■/i cup blanched almonds, in 

L Clove of garlic, crushed 
teaspoons minced parsley 
cups dry red wine 
Vt cup raisins 

20 medium-sized ripe olives, 

sliced into rings 
2V2 teaspoons grated lemon 

Salt, pepper, ground 
cinnamon, and cloves to 

8 strips bacon (optional) 

Brown the birds in the ' ■> cup 
fat and put them in a casserole. 
Heat the brandy and pour it 
over the birds; ignite; let flame 
for a minute or 2, and extin- 
guish the flame. Remove birds 
and keep warm in a casserole. 
In the same browning pan, 
saute the tomatoes, bread 
cubes, almonds, garlic, and 
parsley. Cook together 5 or 6 
minutes. Add the wine, raisins, 
olives, and lemon rind. Season 
with salt, pepper, cinnamon, 
and cloves to taste and simmer 
for a minute or 2 to blend. 
Pour liquid over birds and 
cook, uncovered, breast side 
up, at 325° for about 45 min- 
utes or an hour until done, 
basting occasionally with juices 

California Avocado and Rath Bacon: 

Don't ask us what the sweet-cured, hickory-smoked Iowa 
goodness of Rath Bacon does for the subtle, elusive flavor of 
California avocados. Just try them together and find out! 
Start with scrambled eggs, golden slices of Rath Black Hawk 
Bacon, and velvety slices of ripe avocado. Or add a few 
sizzling slices of Rath Bacon to your next avocado sandwich. 
We could go on and on. Like suggesting Rath Bacon and 
California avocados together in chef's salad, and party dips, 
and canapes, and... But you get the idea! 

You've never tried them together? Pity! 


in the pan. (A strip of bacon can be placed 
on each bird's breast for additional flavor 
before roasting.) Serves 8. 

'Editors' note: We used a pint of cherry tomatoes (un- 
peeled), added them only during the final 20 minutes 
of cooking. 


The epazole ^ called pazote in some places 
in the United States) needed for this recipe, 

and a host of other spices used in Mexi- 
can cooking, can be found in Mexican and 
other food markets. If epazote is not avail- 
able, use fresh parsley. 

2 pounds fresh 

3-4 tablespoons 
olive oil I 

2 cloves of garlic, 

Sprig of epazote 
5 tablespoons chl 


Soak mushrooms in cold salted water for a 
few minutes to clean them. Drain and dry. 
Heat oil in a skillet and add the garlic. Cook 
for a few seconds. Add the mushrooms, 
epazote (or parsley) and chili powder, and 
cook for a few minutes until mushrooms are 
tender but not overdone. Serves 6 to 8. 

*EdiloTs' note : Palates unaccustomed to Mexican food 
will prefer 3 2-1 teaspoon, plus 4 tablespoons paprika. 





2 pounds spinach, 

cooked and 

chopped well 
2 tablespoons 

butter or 

1 tablespoon sweet 

1 tablespoon milk 

2 eggs, beaten 

1 small onion, 
minced well 

Salt, pepper and 
ground cinnamon 
to taste 

2 teaspoons chives 

Mix the spinach with the butter or mar- 
garine, cream and milk. Add the eggs, 
onion, salt, pepper and cinnamon. Grease 
custard cups and pack each one with 
spinach mixture, bearing down to make 
it solid. Place cups in a pan of warm 
water, and cook at 350° for about 20 to 
25 minutes or until set. Unmold and 
serve with chives sprinkled on top. 
Serves 6. 



salad dressings 
can add pounds 
to your 

Salads are great for watching your 
weight, but regular dressings contain 
at least 60 calories per tablespoon- 
can add pounds to your figure! 
New FRENCHETTE dressing has only 
1 calorie per tablespoon . . . but a 
bottle full of flavor. FRENCHETTE adds 
the flavor you nniss in a low-calorie 
diet, yet helps keep your 
figure slim and tnrn! 

Other fine low-calorie dressings 
by Frenchette: 
FRENCHETTE blue Cheese 
Thousand Isl^inrj DreSoing; 
FRENCHETTE Garlic Dressing; 
FRENCHETTE Gourmet Dressing; 

Registered Trademarks'* of 
Carter-Wallace, Inc. 


Some say that this dish originated in 
Zacatecas, a central state noted for its 
abundant fruits. The only reason we'd 
like to find out who created it is to say 
"thank you." 

4 large, firm 

Vs cup sweet butter 
V2 cup sugar 
1 cup heavy cream 

% cup rum (or 
more to taste) 

^^ teaspoon vanilla 

Dash of ground 

Peel bananas and slice them in half 
lengthwise. Saute them in butter until 
golden brown. Drain them on absorbent 
paper and place them on a platter. Cool. 
Sprinkle with one half of the sugar. 
Whip cream until stiff, and fold in the 
remaining sugar, rum and vanilla. Cover 
bananas completely with this mixture. 
Chill. Serve sprinkled with ground cloves. 
Serves 6. 


(Cortes' Shrimp) 

(Meat Loaf with Prunes and Apricots) 
( Rice with Artichoke Hearts) 
(Almond Dessert) 


To make the onion rings that top the 
shrimp extra crisp, be sure to slice them 
as thin as you possibly can, and to soak 
them in cold water for about an hour. 

Salt to taste 
1 cup salad oil 
Dash of oregano 

1 pound cooked, 
cleaned shrimp 

2 tomatoes, sliced 
very thin 

Spanish onion 
rings, sliced 
very thin 

1 cup white wine 

1 teaspoon 

2 tablespoons 
prepared mustard 

2 tablespoons 
tomato puree 

1/2 teaspoon chili 
powder (more or 
less, but taste 
before you add 

Combine all ingredients except the 
shrimp, tomatoes and onions, and stir 
until well blended. Pour over shrimp and 
let the shrimp stand in the marinade for 
about 5 hours before serving. When 
ready to serve, arrange shrimp on to- 
mato slices and top with thin onion 
rings. Pour dressing over all. Serves 
6 to 8. 


Instead of using all ground veal, you 
may substitute a combination of 1 pound 
of ground beef and 1 pound of pork. 

2 pounds ground 

1 egg yolk 
1 egg 

Salt, pepper and 
oregano to taste 

Flour and butter or 
margarine in 
which to brown 
meat loaf 


'A pound dried, 
pitted prunes 

Vn pound dried 

IV2 cups dry red 

IV2 teaspoons 

V'2 cup canned beef 

consomme (or 

other stock) 
Salt, pepper and 


Combine the ground meat and the egg.s, 
and season to taste with salt, pepper and 
oregano. Shape into a long roll. Sprinkle 
with (lour and .saut^ in butter or mar- 
garine. Soak the prunes and the ajjricots 
in th(; wine for a few minutes; mash 
them well to a pulj) with the wine. Pour 
fruil-anci-wiric pui|) over th(! meat in the 
liaii. DiHKolvr- cornstarch in the stock 
and add lo meat. Sprinkle with Hall, 


pepper and about ' ■> teaspoon of chopped 
parsley. Simmer until meat is done, 
about 1 hour or more. Add a litt% stock 
if liquid grows scant in the pan. Serves 
8 to 10. 

Editors' note: Serve part of the sauce on the meat 
loaf; pass the rest in a sauce dish. 


It is interesting that the Mexicans can 
prepare rice as well as the Chinese. They 
coat with oil, and fry it with spices and 
add tender, succulent bits of meat, as 
in this recipe. You may use either 
canned or frozen peas and artichoke 
hearts for this recipe. If frozen, cook 
them before using. 

Vz cup black beans 
2 medium-sized 

Salt and pepper to 

5 tablespoons 

cooking oil 
Chicken broth as 

directed (canned 

may be used) 
1 cup rice 
1 small clove of 


Vi cup tomato pur^e 
1 tablespoon fresh 

chopped parsley 
1 cup peas 
6 artichoke hearts 
1 small (2-ounce) 

jar pimientos, 

cut into strips 
Vt cup almonds, 

blanched and 

Vz cup ham, cut 

into strips 

Soak the beans in water to cover for 8 
hours or overnight. Drain. Put the beans 
up to boil with water to cover, 1 onion, 
left whole, salt and 2 tablespoons of the 
cooking oil. Cook until very tender. Cool 
and put into blender with enough of the 
bean liquid and chicken broth to make 
about 232 cups. Blend until mixture is 
smooth and watery, not thick. 

Soak the rice in warm water to cover 
for about 10 minutes. Rinse in cold 
water. Drain. Heat the remaining cook- 
ing oil and saute the rice, stirring in a 
minced onion and crushed garlic, until 
rice is nicely brown. Stir in the tomato 
puree and simmer a few minutes. Add 
the bean liquid, salt and pepper to 
taste, and parsley. Mix. Cover and sim- 
mer for 20 minutes, or until rice appears 
to be done and liquid is almost absorbed. 
Add a little more broth if liquid appears 
scant. Add the peas, artichoke hearts, 
and pimientos to the rice, tomato and 
bean mixture. When finished, turn into 
a hot dish and garnish with the toasted 
almonds and ham strips. Serves 6 to 8. 

Editors' note : Save a few peas, a few pieces of 
artichoke and a few strips of pimiento for a 
garnish. Adds nice color. 


This dish was created in a convent near 
Puebla. At one time people from all over 
Mexico used to send to the convent for 
Dulce de Almendra to give to friends on 
special occasions. 

3 egg yolks, lightly 
beaten with a 
pinch of salt and 
V2 teaspoon 

IV2 cups shelled 
blanched and 

3 cups sugar 

1 cup water 

% cup sweet 
dessert wine 

1 sponge cake, 
sliced (prepare 
according to your 
favorite recipe, or 
use ready-made 

Mix together the egg yolks and almonds, 
and let stand while you boil the sugar in 
1 cup of water for 5 minutes. Remove 
syrup from stove and divide into 2 equal 
parts. To one half of the syrup, add the 
dessert wine; to the other part, add the 
almonds and eggs. Cook the almond 
syrup very slowly, stirring constantly, 
until thick and custardy. Dip the cake 
slices in the wine-syrup mixture and 
place in alternate layers with the almond 
custard in a grea.sed baking dish. 'I'hr 
top lay(!r should l)e made of the almond 
custard. Uakc! in a .'H)0° oven until the 
top layer is golden, about j 2 hour. 
Serve hot or cold, but do not rrfrii/frolr. 
Keep overnight. Servcm 8 to 10. END 


continued from page 80 


1. Before lining mold, always let ice 
cream soften tdighlhj. No need to let 
sherbet soften. 

2. Any attractive metal mold (or even a 
metal bowl) can be used to make a 
bombe. Molds are usually available at 
variety stores and in housewares dei)art- 
ments. They are also available from The 
Bridge Co. (498 Third Avenue, New 
York, N.Y. 10016). 

3. Use back of metal spoon to press ice 
cream or sherbet firmly against sides and 
base of mold. Smooth each layer with 
back of metal spoon. 

4. We tested our recipes using a full-size 
freezer set at 0° F. If you use a refrigera- 
tor-freezer combination, the temperature 
will be about 1 5° higher, and you'll have 
to allow longer freezing limes. 

5. If you want sharp definition between 
the layers of ice cream, (h)n't skip the 
step of freezing the first layer(s) briefly, 
or the layers may run together.- 

6. To unmold: Ciiill a flat serving plat- 
ter. Immerse base and sides of mold in 
hot water long enough to count "20. 
Cover mold with platter and turn the 
whole works upside down. Shake mold 
to release ice cream. If it doesn't come 
out, cover mold with a hot, wet dish- 
cloth and shake again. Return to freezer 
to firm up after unmolding. 

7. All bomhes can be garnished with 
fresh fruits, whipped cream or whippe<l 
topping. For extra fancilication, dip 
fruits in unbeaten egg white and in 
superfine ( uol confectioners' I sugar. I'lacc 
on wire racks for 1 hour to dry, then use 

as garnish. But try this only if the 
weather is cool and the humidity low. 
8. For prolonged freezing, cover all 
molds with plastic wrap. 


We used a 16-pound melon, perfect for a 
spectacular party dessert. You could, of 
course, use a smaller one. But you needn't 
worry about leftovers, because you can 
put the filled melon back into the freezer 
and cut off slices as you need them. 

1 (16-lb.) water- 

5 qt. raspberry 

2 (6-oz.) pkg. 
semisweet choc- 
olate pieces 

Wipe the watermelon with damp paper 
towels. Split in half lengthwise. Remove 
all pink flesh (use it in fruit salads, or 
scoop most of it out with a melon-ball 
maker, freeze in plastic bags). 

Using 6 pints of raspberry sherbet, 
line each half of melon shell (8 pints per 
shell ). Freeze 30 minutes to firm sherbet. 

Coat sherbet lining with 2 (6-oz.) pkg. 
semisweet chocolate pieces, saving a few 
for final decoration. Use 1 pkg. per shell; 
these are the "seeds." 

Fill shells with rest of sherbet. Cover 
each shell with plastic wrap and freeze 
at least "2 hours. 

At serving time, cut melon into wedges 
with sharp knife dipped in hot water. 
Outline "seeds" clearly with semisweet 
chocolate pieces you saved. Makes 20 


This is entirely edible, even the "skin." 

Vj cup semisweet 
chocolate pieces 

1 pt. pistachio ice 

1 pt. raspberry 


Line a 1-qt. melon mold (or a 1-qt. metal 
bowl) with 1 pt. slightly softened pis- 
tachio ice cream. Freeze 30 minutes. 

Fill center of mold with 1 pt. rasp- 
berry sherbet mixed with 3 2 cup semi- 
sweet chocolate pieces. Freeze at least 2 
hours. Unmold, following the general in- 
structions in "Do's and Don'ts," at 
left. Makes 6 servings. 

If you're having a party, you might 
like to make one whole large melon, as 
at the Savoy Hotel, in London. You'll 
need two 1-qt. melon molds, each the 
shape of half a melon. Fill them as de- 
scribed above. Unmold and press to- 
gether to make one whole melon. Smooth 
with your fingertips. Garnish and leave 
in freezer until ready to serve. Serves 12. 


The classic bombes of French cuisine 
call for some exotic ice creams and sher- 
bets that would be hard to come by these 
days. We've translated some of the 
"wilder" ones into ice creams generally 
available right at your supermarket. For 
example, instead of praline we use butter 
pecan ice cream; instead of kirsch ice, we 
use cherry vanilla. Or you can make 
your own instant sherbets, following our 
Master Recipe, page 90, and dream up 
your own combinations. 

We tell how much you will need of 
each ice cream, and we give capsule di- 
rections for assembling the bombes. For 
all, use a 1-qt. melon mold or metal 
bowl. For details, please read The Do's 
and Don'ts of Bombe-Making, at left. 
Bombe Comtesse-Marie : Line mold with 
1 pt. raspberry sherbet and freeze 30 
minutes. Then fill with 1 pt. vanilla ice 
cream and freeze one hour longer. 
Bombe Danicheff: Line mold with 1 pt. 

coffee ice cream and freeze 30 minutes. 
Fill with 1 pt. cherry vanilla ice cream 
and freeze one hour. 
Bombe Patricienne: Line mold with 1 pt. 
vanilla ice cream and freeze 30 minutes. 
Then line with 3^ pt. butter pecan ice 
cream and freeze 30 minutes more. Fill 
with y> pt. chocolate ice cream and 
freeze one hour. 

Bombe Tutti Frutti: Line mold with 1 pt. 
strawberry ice cream and freeze 30 min- 
utes. Fill with J4 pt. lemon sherbet 
mixed with a 1-lb., 1-oz. can fruit cock- 
tail, very well drained. Freeze one hour. 
Bombe a la Royale : Line mold with 1 pt. 
cherry vanilla ice cream and freeze 30 
minutes. Fill with 1 pt. chocolate ice 
cream mixed with 3-2 cup broken pecans. 
Freeze one hour. 

Bombe TortonI: Line mold with 1 pt. 
butter pecan ice cream and freeze 30 
minutes. Fill with 1 pt. coffee ice cream; 
freeze one hour. Unmold and press 34 
cup graham-cracker crumbs over outside 
and freeze until serving time. 
Bombe a la Valencay: Line mold with 1 
pt. butter pecan ice cream and freeze 30 
minutes. Fill with a r2-oz. pkg. thawed 
and w'e//-drained frozen raspberries, 
folded into % cup heavy cream whipped 
with 2 tablespoons sugar. Freeze two 

Bombe Succes: Line mold with 1 pt. 
peach ice cream and freeze 30 minutes. 
Fill with 1 cup chopped and well-drained 
peaches, folded into 3 -i cup heavy cream, 
whipped with 2 tablespoons sugar and 1 
tablespoon light rum (or teaspoon 
rum extract). Freeze 2 hours. 


The charlotte russe was invented by the 
great 19th-century {continued) 

great cookout idea! hamcheezers grilled in Reynolds Wra[D. why, specifically. 
Reynolds Wrap? because Reynolds Wrap is oven-tempered for flexible strength. 

''^"^^' ^S^ Y oven-tempered for a special resistance to tearing, a special 

kind of strength that stands up to high heat, 
re-usable, too. no wonder more women 
buy Reynolds Wrap than all other 

foils combined. 


nixme sTReHOTH DUTY eoiit 

Woich HIPPODROME, Tuesdays, CBS-TV IJf^l 
HOUR relufns Seplember 13) 

lids Metals Company, ^ rT l " ^: N| 
Richmond, Va. 23218 


(8 portions) 

8 split hamburger buns 

2 packages (3-oz. size) 
sliced spiced ham, finely shredded 
Vs pound shredded Swiss cheese 
Reynolds Wrap 
For Spread-on Sauce, combine. 
'A cup soft butter or morgarin^i 

1 tablespoon chopped 
green onions or chives 

1 tablespoon chopped parsley 

1 teaspoon mustard, dry or prepared 

1 small clove garlic, minced 

First, line your grill v/ith Heavy Duty Reynolds 
Wrap— to reflect heat, make clean-up easy. 
Then spread sauce on buns. Toss ham and 
cheese together and divide between the 8 
buns. Press halves of buns together and then 
cut each into quarters. Thread onto skewers 
with halves of cherry tomatoes between. Wrap 
each in Reynolds Wrap (regular weight will 
do), double-folding edges. Grill over hot fire 
about 20 minutes, or about 25 to 30 minutes, 
in moderate (375 °F.) oven. 

y^ cup heavy 

cream, whipped 
2 Tb. slivered 



French chef Careme, and, like many 
other examples of hauie cuisine, is utterly 
and charmingly simple. 


Va cup apricot 


1 qt. pistachio ice 

Split ladyfingers from a 3-oz. pkg. Spread 
cut sides with a little apricot preserves 
and sandwich back to- 
gether. Use to line a 
1-qt. souffle dish. Fill 
center with 1 qt. pis- 
tachio ice cream. Press 
firmly with metal spoon 
to fill dish evenly. Cover 
with plastic wrap. Freeze 
at least 2 hours. 

Unmold by quickly 
dipping dish in hot wa- 
ter and inverting onto 
flat, chilled platter. Place 
in freezer 5 minutes to 
firm up. Just before 
serving, frost top with 
}4 cup heavy cream, 
whipped; spike cream 
with 2 tablespoons sliv- 
ered almonds. Serves 6. 


One of the noted col- 
lations of the 19th 
century— rum-flavored 
sherbet served in hol- 
lowed oranges. During 
several administrations 
it was popular at the 
White House. 

2 Tb. light rum or 
Vz tsp. rum extract 

1 pt. orange or lemon 

3 large oranges, halved 
and hollowed out 

Add 2 tablespoons light 
rum ( or 3^2 teaspoon rum 
extract) to 1 pt. orange 
or lemon sherbet. Pile 
into 6 orange shells and 
freeze at least 2 hours. 
Roman Punch is quite 
soft— soft enough to sip, 
if allowed to stand at 
room temperature for 
about 2 minutes before 
serving. Serves 6. 


From the Forum of the 
XII Caesars in New 
York comes this idea. 

6 lemons 

1 pt. lemon sherbet 
Vz cup very finely diced 
mixed candied fruits 

Cut tops off 6 large 
lemons and hollow out. 
Mix 14 cup very finely diced candied 
fruit into 1 pt. lemon sherbet and pile 
into lemon shells. Replace tops of 
lemons to make lids and freeze at least 2 
hours. Serves 6. 


Kndless -. ariations are possible. For a 
start, try cherry-flavored liqueur or 
creme de cassis with raspberry sherbet, 
creme de menthe or ' otjnac with lemon 

in sherbet container and freeze at least 1 
hour. Do not attempt to mold, for the 
alcohol makes the mixture too soft. 
Serves 6. 


Xow comes the great drama — sherbets 
that you make at the table and serve 
immediately. These sherbets obey the 
dictum of the great Escoffier. They are 
light and barely congealed, which is the 
way they should be served. 

dash of salt and 3 cups very finely 
crushed ice. If the concentrate is un- 
sweetened, add 2 tablespoons superfine 
sugar. Turn motor to high until well 
mixed and smooth, using a rubber spat- 
ula to stir. When mixture is snowy and 
has an even hue throughout, the sherbet 
is ready. Ser\ e immediately, or freeze 1 
to 2 hours until firm enough to use in a 
bombe. Serves 6. 

If you have no blender, you may use a 
well-chilled bowl and an electric beater 

m I^UT 17 « W (A devilishly tempting scheme. 

km mi IJ Mi It makes this happy blend of 

illM^nS TIIMT Hormel Ham and pork 

iri UKm liri •^^j^shoulderasmuchfun 

^M^^to open as it is to eat) 

-'''it? LUNCHEOl 


frozen Hawaiian-style fruit drink con- 
centrate (which has several ^tropical 
fruits, including passion fruit in it \ and 
add 2 tablespoons instant dry milk to' 
Master Recipe. 

Pineapple-Orange Sherbet: Use a t>-()z. 
can frozen pineapple-orange juice con- 
centrate and use a whole egg instead of 
an egg white. Follow directions for the 
Master Recipe, at the left. 
Pineapple Sherbet: Use a 6-oz. can 
frozen pineapple juice concentrate, and 
add a whole egg instead 
of an egg white. 
Pomegranate Sherbet: 
Use a 6-oz. can frozen 
grapefruit juice concen- 
trate. After 30 seconds 
in the blender, add 1 ta- 
blespoon Grenadine 
syrup (which is made 
from pomegranates I 
Tangerine Sherbet: Use 
a 6-oz. can frozen tanger- 
ine juice concentrate, 
and follow the Master 

Lime Sherbet: Use a 

6-oz. can frozen limeade 
concentrate (or use lime 
juice concentrate, with 2 
tablespoons superfine 
sugar). Add a few drops 
of green food coloring 
after mixing 30 seconds 
in the blender. 
Lemon Sherbet: Use a 
6-oz. can frozen lemon- 
ade concentrate (or con- 
centrated lemon juice, 
with 2 tablespoons su- 
perfine sugar ). Add a 
whole egg instead of an 
egg white. 

Grape Sherbet: Use a 

6-oz. can frozen grape 
juice concentrate, and 
then follow the Master 


Real old-fashioned fruit 
ice cream, made in sec- 
onds in the blender. Like 
the ice cream our grand- 
mothers made, this one 
needs a brief period nf 
"ripening" — but in thi 
freezer, not the icebox. 
Flavor can be anything 
you like— peach, straw- 
berry, raspberry, even 
rhubarb or blueberry ! If 
you like, you may add 
one or two drops of food 
coloring of the appro- 
priate color to intensify 
the color of your ice 


1 pt. orange 

2 Tb. oranqe- 
flavorod liqueur 

Mix 1 pt. orange sherbet witii 2 table- 
Hjjoona orange-flavored liqueur. Replace 

We've found also that they freeze 
beautifully, and are perfect for making 
unusual bombes. Why not try pome- 
granate with pineapple . . . tangerine 
with lemon . . . passion fruit with lime? 
Please refer to Eight Classic Bombes, 
page 89, for proportions and method. 


1 (6-07.) can frozen Oash salt 

fruit juice or 3 cups finely 
fruit-drink crushed ice 

concentrate 2 Tb. superfine 

1 egg white sugar (optional) 

I'lace in the glasH container of an ehjctric 
blender 1 (d-oz.) can frozen fruit juice or 
fruit'drink concentrate, 1 egg white, a 

at high speed. Or use a rotary beater and 
set the bowl in ice water. 

Snow ice may be purchased if you 
have no ice crusher. Or use a canvas bag 
and a mallet, or whatever other method 
you choose. Be sure, however, that the 
ice is very fine. Use it as soon as it's 
crushed, or store in the freezer until 

Starting with the Master Recii)e, there 
is no limit to the possible variations. 
Orange Marquise: Use a 6-oz. can frozen 
orangeade (•onccnt rate and add to Mas- 
ter Recipe 2 tablespoons instant dry 

Passion Fruit Sherbet: Use a 6-07.. can 

1 (10-oz. to 12-oz.) 
pkg. frozen fruit 
in syrup 

1 egg 1 cup finely 

1 cup sweetened crushed ice 

condensed milk Dash salt 

Let a 10-oz. to 12-oz. pkg. frozen fruit in 
syrup thaw just enough to break into 
chunks. Place in electric blender with 1 
egg, 1 cup sweetened condensed milk 
and a dash of salt. Put 1 cup finely 
crushed ice on top. Blend at high speed 
30 seconds. Stir mixture down with a 
rubber si)atula. Blend mixture 30 sec- 
onds longer at high speed. Pour into 
met al bowl ; cover bowl with plastic wrap. 
Place in freezer at least 1.") to 60 minutes. 
H you like firmer ice cream, freeze I to 6 
hours. Makes about 1 quart. end 



iiilitiued from page 32 

an of boiling water. This requires little 
ttention but does take time, often as 
jng as 45 minutes. If you are in a hurry, 
hoose a reasonably heavy utensil, heat 
cup water to boiling, then add the 
ozen blocks of food, and lower the heat 
lightly. As the food thaws, turn it over 
i frequently and break it apart as it melts. 
Bruce summers out on Long Island, 
here she can buy fresh seafood and put 
t away at its prime. Her own way with 
'oqiiilles St. Jacques (scallops in 
hells) is very special: when the scallops 
re available, she freezes the seafood mix- 
ure in mounds sized to go in the shells; 
he freezing is done on rounds of foil and 
hen later they are wrapped to keep 
hem from drying. It's no trouble to 
ransfer individual servings to scallop 
hells or ramekins; top with crumbs and 
icheese or crumbled bacon, and broil. 
Bread often adds distinction to meals. 
Poppy says, "Homemade breads and 
various types of coffee cakes and ginger- 
breads are my i)rincipal joys amongst 
fully prepared freezer foods." She makes 
u point of slicing bread and cutting cake 
before freezing so bread can be toasted 
or cake defrosted for tea without delay. 
Cut or uncut, it's important to use a 
wrap that molds closely around baked 
food to keep it from drying out. How- 
ever, when the cakes are soft and when 
there are frostings, freeze the food first, 
then wra|), for it's easier to handle. 

When the local bakery has fresh-baked 
French bread, buy several loaves and 
cut into slices almost to the lower crust 
and spread with flavored butter (garlic, 
minced herbs, sesame seed or one of the 

grated hard cheeses). A nice way with 
these is to do up chunks of the sliced 
bread in heavy freezer foil, with the fold 
at the top so it can be heated directly in 
the packet without having butter run 
over the oven. With 6 to 8 slices per 
packet, it's easy to pick out the right 
amount for the crowd, and it also means 
the seconds or even thirds are kept 
toasty hot in the oven. Against the day 
when time from freezer to table is im- 
portant, it's a good idea to stash away 
some food in individual units— they 
thaw and heat faster. Individual meat 
loaves, one-person casseroles, stuffed 
baby eggplants, peppers or baked pota- 
toes, small containers of soup, for in- 
stance. Of course, hamburgers are a 
standby for all confirmed freezer users, 
and like steaks and chops they can be 
cooked directly from the frozen stage. 
The important step is to shape them be- 
fore freezing, thin or plump as you like 
them. Some like ground steak loosely 
packed, but a caution: the meat tastes 
better if molded with firmness to exclude 
as much air as possible. A good routine 
is to wrap each hamburger snugly in 
plastic wrap or foil and stow the whole 
group in a plastic bag or large container. 

Specials that set many a meal apart 
are often made possible with a freezer. 
Bruce Gierke makes her own pate— and 
freezes it in small crocks. Often, when a 
guest, usually a gentleman, admires the 
result, she gives him a crock to take 
home. Another of her specialties, which 
is ready to serve, is a Lincoln Log 
made of half Roquefort cheese, half 
cream cheese, moistened with cognac 
and formed into cylinders and rolled in 
chopped pecans. "I make 3 or 4 at once 
to last a couple of months." 

Ready-cooked meat is such a joy in 
the freezer we plan roasts of meat and 
poultry large enough to add to the sup- 
ply. But woe to the person who freezes 
before cutting, for any icy block takes 
so long to thaw its spur-of-the-moment 
usefulness is hampered. We slice, wrap 
two to four slices in packets with two 
pieces of wrap between each (so they will 
be easier to separate later). Cooked ham, 
chicken and turkey can be converted 
into julienne strips for salad; sliced 
roasts go into sandwiches or can be diced 
to add to curry or tomato sauce, and any 
meat is ideal for casseroles of many sorts. 
Or, for a quick trick, a spoon of sauce 
can be added to the meat, which is re- 
sealed and heated in its own freezer foil 
in an oven or over a campfire. 

When coconut is in season, we use 
blenders to grate the white meat, and 
squirrel it away for curry or to use as a 
fruit topping. For convenience, about 
half-cup amounts are wrapped in plastic 
wrap or foil, and all the packets kept 
conveniently in one large container. 
Other specials you will find in our freez- 
ers: chopped pecans or walnuts, ready 
for desserts or to mix with salads; toasted 
almonds in butter, packaged in small 
fluted cups (one of these is just right for 
a serving of vegetables); toasted cake 
crumbs to use as instant toppings for 
vegetables or casseroles. 


• Temperature is important. Unless a 
freezer or freezer section of a refrigerator 
holds zero or lower temperatures, foods 
will age very soon. 

• The quality of poor food doesn't im- 
prove in a freezer, so always start with 
prime quality. 

• Fast freezing preserves flavor and 
texture, and to insure this (a) chill food 
(in the refrigerator if possible) before 
freezing and (b ) freeze no more than will 
freeze solid in 24 hours, usually 2 or .3 
pounds per cubic foot of freezer space. 

• Plan meal-size packages; it's better to 
use two when needed than to thaw a 
large amount that is too much. 

• Rotate the supply so oldest foods are 
used first. Most meats, except salty and 
spiced ones, are good 9 to 12 months (at 
zero of course). Fruits and vegetables 
keep nicely from one season to another 
and most prepared foods are fine for a 
month. But do not freeze foods that are 
best crispy (salad greens for instance) or 
cooked egg whites. Wine, spices and 
herbs may change flavor during long 
storage, so add these just before serving. 

• Labels with contents and dates are 
important — really the only clues to con- 
tents of the packets; without them you 
may end up thawing a loaf of bread 
instead of a meat loaf. 

• Generally the slowest defrosting (in 
the refrigerator) is best. But read about 
our quick tricks for when this isn't 

• Running inventories are the best for 
menu builders, but if you are too busy 
to keep one up to date, try organizing 
the freezer space and grouping foods by 
types for a quick reference. 

• Frostless freezers are modern miracles. 
Defrost older models when stocks are 
low; cover frozen food with newspaper 
while it's out of the freezer. 

• Experiment — try new ideas, and your 
freezer will help you to better meals. 

Turn to page 94 for more information 
on freezers and freezer supplies. 

ee! Today's Cascade stops spots before they start! 

Some dishwasher detergents allow water drops 
to form on dishes. These drops dry into ugly spots! 

Today's Cascade has Chlorosheen to make water rinse off 
in clear sheets. Drops don't form, so dishes dry spotless! 

You discover how beautifully spotfree your dishes can be when 
you discover today's Cascade! No more ugly spots. No more towel 
touch-ups. Just sparkling dishes you're proud to take 
straight from your dishwasher to your table! Only to- 
day's Cascade has Chlorosheen to stop spots before 
they start! Its amazing "sheeting action" lets dishes 
dry spotless! Cascade actually protects fine china pat- 
terns. More women prefer it. Every dishwasher maker 
approves it. Today's Cascade — wow! 

LaDolce liti 

The Sweet Ziti. Short, hollow Italian macaroni with Chef Boy-Ar- Dee® Spaghetti 
Sauce with Meat. Delicious. It's thick with tender beef and good plump tomatoes. 
And blended with just the right spices. Then hand -stirred and slowly simmered 
until every drop is filled with subtle seasoning. 

To make sweet ziti. Cook 1 lb. ziti according to package directions. Mix well with 
2 tbsp. of butter and 3 tbsp. of grated parmesan cheese. Then pour on 1 can heated 
Chef Boy-Ar- Dee Spaghetti Sauce with Meat. Garnish with grated cheddar cheese. 
Makes a "dolce" dish for 4. 


continued from page 57 

and Joe have overreached themselves 
and gotten hold of something dangerous 
enough so that I can in good conscience 
forbid Mark to go back. 

"Kip and Joe's big cousin is coming 
this weekend, and he's got a chemistry 
set that makes this neat fuel." 

Score one for the Kipplingers, I con- 
cede, knowing that in another five days 
they will have tired of having the small- 
fry underfoot, and that the great moon 
rocket will be standing, like Mark's 
dreams, uncompleted and forlorn. 

I tuck him into bed and brush the 
hair back from his forehead, kissing the 
spot underneath. "Won't you miss me a 
little when you go to the moon?" I ask. 

He thinks it over, trying to be tactful. 
"Well, we might not go to the moon 
right away," he temporizes. "We might 
just go into orbit for a while. Gee, Mom, 
we could see Merryway Park from the 
sky. Ail the lights on the roller coaster 
from way up above. And we could see 
the shape of thf lake!" 

So this is part of Mark's dream. Not 
alone the glory of working shoulder to 
shoulder with the big guys, but to see 
the shapf! of the world from on high. 

"Please, Mamma," he says, growing 
younger befon my eyes. "I just gotta 
go tomorrow. And take the two dollars." 

"I'll think about it," I promised him. 

I go downHtair.4 and .hIi, in the dark 
kitchen eating grapes and looking out 
at the moon on the willow troe. I w^jnder 
if I am too old to be the mother of 
a six-year-fjld. My husband maintainH 
stoutly that thr-He are merely the vintage 


years of youth, but if I were ten years 
younger I would still have my own place 
in the scheme of things to worry about, 
and, looking inward, I would perhaps 
not see so clearly what is going to hap- 
pen to Mark in the next few days. Either 
his cruel mother is going to keep him 
from having the most wonderful adven- 
ture of his life, or before the week is 
out he will be betrayed by his heroes 
and find that he has missed a once-a- 
year picnic and squandered all the money 
he possesses for a skeletal structure of 
two-by-fours which the junkman will 
haul away at the end of the month. 


know the Kipplingers, and I do not 
blame them. They cannot help that their 
advanced years make them heroes to 
Mark and his friends. Kip and Joe are 
bored now that the first days of summer 
freedom are over, and the rocket seems 
to them a good enough idea that they 
will take the smaller children on suffer- 
ance. For the moment. But next week 
Coach Carlson comes back from his va- 
cation and the Pinehurst Junior Base- 
ball League gets underway, and the 
Kipplingers won't have time for moon 
rockets. Even before then they may tire 
of having Mark and Pete and Stoney 
around. Just as Mark and Pete and 
Stoney are happy this time to have the 
three-year-olds excluded. 

There must be more magic to the 
Kipplingers than age however. Once last 
summer I asked Mark why h(? liked to 
Hpcrid .so much time I here. Mark thought 
about it, but all he could tell me was, 
"They've got paper cups that come out 
of a machine." For an instant I wondered 
if a paper-cup diHpcns<'r would turn my 
kitchen into Mecca, but Mark forcHlallcd 

me. "It's not like you can buy. It's like 
on a train. The cups are pointed at the 
bottom. And they've got this neat deal 
in the refrigerator. You turn a faucet 
and ice water comes out. Kip's mother 
lets us have all we want." 

A great hostess like Mrs. Kipplinger 
could give cards and spades to Perle 
Mesta, I think unworthily. But there it 
is; ice water tastes better at the Kip- 
plingers. You need some sort of magic to 
account for that. 

I still haven't decided what to tell 
Mark in the morning. I am too old, I 
decide. I remember when Mark was 
eighteen months old and went with me 
on a fund-collecting drive. He was sur- 
rounded by a group of children down in 
the next block, and one of them, a little 
girl about three, reached out and pushed 
him in the stomach. He didn't fall; he 
didn't even cry, but a hot blush of rage 
washed over me at anyone's daring to 
lay a hand on this miracle child of mine, 
and, as the rage receded, I knew a mo- 
ment of clear panic. In that instant I 
foresaw this present dilemma over the 
moon rocket and all the similar heart- 
wrenching battles of decision. 

Until that shove in the stomach from 
a little fair-haired girl, I had always 
stood between Mark and the rest of the 
world. I had only myself to worry about. 
Would I let him roll off the bed? Would 
I heat his bottle too hot? W^ould I let 
him slip in the bathtub? But the luxury 
of Mark's babyhood was over— the bliss 
of being allowed to protect him wholly— 
and I could hold the world at bay no 
longer. I would have to let him be hurt 
in order that he not have the greater 
hurt of being too much shielded. 

You do have to let your child be 
shoved in the stomach. You don'? have 
to let him be hit with a rock. If it were 
only always so clear cut, but I have 
found no way to codify the rules, and 
again and again must laboriously meas- 
ure each hurt against the other. If I deny 
him his rocket, will it hurt him more 
than the disillusion which is bound to 
follow? How dare I presume to make 
godlike decisions? 


husband switches on the light and 
helps himself to some grapes. He doesn't 
ask why I'm sitting in the dark. I do 
not ask him what to do about Mark. He 
has had a long, hard day, and I am 
afraid he will not listen carefully enough. 
I am afraid that if he shrugs me off, I 
will be resentful and angry, and I do not 
want to risk it. I am troubled enough. 

"These grapes don't have much fla- 
vor," Mark's father says, and I am glad 
to face a problem that doesn't require 
a solution. "You'd think somebody 
could come up with a decent tomato or 
strawberry or grape these days." 

"I agree about the tomatoes and 
strawberries," I comment, "but there's 
nothing wrong with these grapes." 

"They don't taste like the ones we 
had in our backyard," he says. "My 
brother and I used to hide out under the 
arbor and eat grapes until we were 
purple all over. And those grapes tasted 
like something!" 

I smile at him. "Oh, well," I say, "if 
you're looking for the taste of sunlight 
filtered through grape leaves— looking 

for the flavor of being ten years old " 

"Enough," he says, rising. "I know 
when I'm licked. But you don't know 


I eiei 



The Hearty Rotini. Little spirals of macaroni with Chef Boy-Ar-Dee Marinai 
Spaghetti Sauce and shrimp on top. This is Italian "mariner's sauce" with luscioi 
pieces of tomato in a savory seasoning that makes it the perfect partner for sei 
food. And Chef Boy-Ar- Dee's special l)lond of spices, onions and plum tomato< 
gives our Marinara a little extra zip. 

To make hearty rotini. Cook 1 lb. rotini according to pn'-kage directions. .Snut 
3 tbsp. ciich of chopped onion and green popper. Add 1 can of ready -to -eat Ch« 
Boy-Ar-Dee Marinara .Spaghetti .Sauce. Cook gently .5 minutes. Add 2 cups cook' 
or canned deveined .shrimp, and continue heating 2 minutes. Pour over 4 .servini 
of macaroni, and see how "robusta" rotini can be. 


"t!^^ MUSHROOM^ 


3ood Linguine. Flat, twirlable spaghetti and veal parmigiana topped with 
!hef Boy-Ar-Dee Spaghetti Sauce with Mushrooms. Juicy bits of mushroom, 
cred with plump, sweet tomatoes give this sauce its good and hearty zest. 

ake good linguine. Cook 1 lb. linguine as package directs. Cut 1' '2 lbs. veal 
in serving pieces. Pound thin and season with salt and pepper. Dip in beaten 
hen in mixture of bread crumbs, parmesan cheese. Brown meat in oil. Put 
I baking pan and pour on 1 can of Chef Boy-Ar-Dee Spaghetti Sauce with 
irooms. Bake 20 min. at 375" F. Add strips mozzarclla cheese. Bake to melt 
e. Serve on bed of "buona" linguine. 

anything about it because you never 
tasted our grapes." He goes out, turning 
off the light as he leaves. 

But I do know, because I have re- 
membered the thorn apples. 

I do not know if there is such a thing 
as a thorn apple. I haven't seen one 
since I was a child, but I know that they 
existed then. They grew in the Mitchells' 
backyard, and they were the most 
delicious fruit that has ever ripened 
since the Garden of Eden. They looked 
like apples, but with a pinkish cast to 
the red skin, and they were only an inch 
in diameter. They tasted like apples, but 
much sweeter and yet with more of a 
tang. And the delight of holding one — 
an apple scaled down to child size. 

It was fitting that food for the gods 
should grow in the Mitchells' yard. The 
Mitchell girls, Audrey and Madelaine, 
were the most beautiful and accom- 
plished girls I knew. They were elegant 
and tall of bearing, Madelaine with the 
only authentically rosy cheeks I've ever 
seen, Audrey with skin of alabaster. 
Their younger brother Frank had run me 
down with his tricycle the day we moved 
into the block, but I forgave him when 
I discovered he was related to the divine 

Five houses and as many years or 
more separated us. Of course, one could 
always roller-skate past their house and 
hope for a glimpse— or even a friendly 
wave. But to be admitted to their yard 
to play was the pinnacle of achievement. 
It was the most romantic area of adven- 
ture I could envision— truly the thresh- 
old of the world. 

My closest friend, Phyllis, had lived 
next door to them all her life, but even 

she could not gain access to their private 
domain except on those rare days when 
they were so bored with each other that 
they were willing to tolerate our presence. 

One delightful feature at the Mitchells 
was the double garage with folding 
doors. Why a double garage when no 
one had two cars in those days, I don't 
know, but I do know that sliding those 
doors open and closed was a never- 
ending source of pleasure. I can still 
hear the gentle creak of the hinges and 
see the huge wooden panel begin to 
buckle as I pulled against the handle. 

Even more wonderful was the fact 
that the yard was divided into two sec- 
tions; the backyard proper ending in a 
high hedge and, extending beyond it, a 
remote, derelict place with soft, grass- 
less earth to dig in and a marvelous 
toolshed which could be used as any- 
thing from a playhouse to a ship's cabin. 

But the Mitchells' yard was not for 
the most part a place for aimless play. 
Usually when I was invited there it was 
for some special project requiring that 
terrible intensity of concentration, en- 
ergy and faith of which only the very 
young are capable. 

Perhaps the biggest project of all was 
the Great Treasure Hunt. I do not re- 
member how it started. My first recol- 
lection is of digging furiously behind the 
Mitchells' toolshed, firm in the convic- 
tion that I was going to find gold buried 
by the Indians. Just how the Mitchell 
children had suddenly discovered there 
was treasure on the property, or why 
they were willing to share their good 
fortune eludes me. Maybe it was never 
fully explained to us, but I do know 
that suddenly all the neighborhood chil- 
dren, even Mildred Race, a big girl 


Audrey's age from the next block, began 
excavating behind that toolshed. 

Our fund of Indian lore was appar- 
ently scant, as none of us questioned the 
probabilities of their having buried gold 
in northern Illinois. Coronado himself, 
had he been convinced the old toolshed 
marked the site of the Seven Cities of 
Cibola, could not have wielded a shovel 
with more fervor than we. 


'ne day, when the excitement was at 
a particularly fevered pitch, I heard my 
mother calling and I ran home to find 
that she wanted to take me downtown. 
"But I can't go now," I wailed. "It's 
nearly my turn to dig, and we're almost 
sure to find something today!" Mother 
looked at my blistered hands and started 
to say something and then stopped, and 
I said, "Please, Mother; I've never had 
such a wonderful time in my life." She 
gave me a strange look and took my 
face in her hands and kissed me and let 
me go back to the Mitchells'. I was a 
little surprised because, even though I 
knew it existed, somehow even very 
young children can sense that parents 
don't much believe in treasure. 

Later that afternoon Mother came 
across the intervening backyards and 
handed me a glass of chocolate milk 
which she had made and whipped frothy, 
and a pimiento cream cheese sandwich. 
I had been too anxious to get back to 
the diggings to swallow much of my 
lunch, and I was hungry, but I couldn't 
understand why, when I had inconveni- 
enced her by not going downtown, 
Mother had brought me a treat. 

It was not much later that we found 
the box and the marvelous gold stone. 

The stone was large and rough-textured 
and felt like a piece of soft coal, but it 
shimmered and sparkled pure golden in 
the sun, and I thought it was the most 
beautiful object I had ever seen. With 
it in the box was a letter of instruction 
from the Indians which read, "For the 
real treasure dig straight down eleven 
feet." Instead of being written out, the 
word "feet" was represented by a series 
of tiny footprints drawn on the sheet of 
yellow paper. Everyone has heard of 
Indian sign language. 

When I told Mother the exciting news 
that night she said, "Eleven feet! Oh, 
baby, that's so far," and looked dis- 
tressed, but that was all she said. 

I didn't really care. I was willing to 
dig a hundred feet. I dug now with a 
singing inside me, and it hardly mat- 
tered about the rest of the treasure, be- 
cause we already had the gold stone. We 
were going to divide it. That's what had 
been decided. All those who had borne 
a share in the work shared in the trea- 
sure. We were going to split the golden 
stone and each of us would have a piece 
of it to keep, to hold, to look at as often 
as we wished. 

I was an ingenuous child. I did not find 
it strange that the Indians had buried 
the stone and the letter in a shoe box. 

For several more days we dug in the 
hard-packed earth. The hole got so deep 
that when he stood in the bottom of it, 
Frank Mitchell's head did not come 
above the level of the ground. Then one 
morning I went over directly after break- 
fast and found the site deserted. With a 
horrible feeling of premonition I ran to 
Phyllis's house. "Why isn't anyone dig- 
ging?" I demanded. (continued) 

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"Oh, they've quit digging," she said. 

"I k)ioir that. But why ?" 

"There isn't any treasure," she said. 
"They just made tiiat up." 

I wanted to shake her. "Who made it 
up?" I cried. "What about the note? It 
said there was treasure." 

"The Mitchells wrote it," she said, 
and I began to feel the clutch of panic. 
"Frank put it in the bottom of the hole 
one night and shoved a lot of dirt on it 
and trampled it down and we dug it up 
again the next day." 

"But the stone," I cried frantically. 
"The gold stone — ichere is it?" 

Phyllis looked at me blankly. "Oh, 
the stone," she said. "That belonged to 
Mildred Race. She was in on everything. 
When it was over, she took it home." 

Perhaps I was right and the Mitchell 
yard was the threshold of the world. 
Many times since then I have found the 
Mitchells taught me true. Often I find 
the glittering gold come-on snatched 
away just as I reach for it. 

But somehow I never feel surprised, 
perhaps because I have not, since my 
days in the Mitchells' backyard, ex- 
pected it to be otherwise. 

I think that if I had not learned my 
lessons so very young I would not have 
grasped them at all. Perhaps it is only 
what we learn in those first dozen years 
that really sinks in. 

But is my life better or worse because 
I no longer wear innocence and faith 
like a bright cloak gathered around me? 
Would I be willing to risk again the 
sudden sharp sense of betrayal if only I 
could recapture the intense joy of trust- 
ing, hopeful expectancy I felt then? 

I have, at least, the memory of the 
thorn apples that could be found no- 
where else in my limited world; the 
memory of their spicy taste and the 
delight of holding one in my closed hand, 
all the deliciousness of childhood com- 
pressed into a tiny sphere to make it the 
sweetest, tangiest fruit of all. 

I sit here staring at the willow tree 
and asking myself: What am I going to 
tell Mark in the morning? 

I ask, knowing the answer, but not 
knowing if it will be the right answer 
for him. I tiptoe into his room and pin 
two dollar bills to the pillow beside the 
head of my sleeping voyager, and I go 
back to the kitchen to bake peanut-but- 
ter cookies for him to take to the moon. 

I wonder whether in years to come he 
will remember a time when ice water 
was as heady as wine. END 

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continued from page 71 

budget was $3,800. There were three 
staff members, and they used furniture 
and equipment borrowed from the Good- 
will Industries. 

Today an effective United Fund drive 
brings in $235,000 to the center. Approxi- 
mately $100,000 is received in parents' 
tuition fees, which range from $3 to $15 a 
week per child. There are also annual con- 
tributions from a few wealthy patrons. 

To date 7,000 youngsters have been 
enrolled at the Houston centers. Some 
stay only a few months to tide a family 
over a major illness. There was a builder 
whose two children needed the center 
after their father suffered a fall from a 
defective ladder. The family's insurance 
ran out and his wife, a former typist, 
went back to work to help pay the bills. 
The children attended the center before 
and after school until the household re- 
turned to normal. 

A young mother of three, recently di- 
vorced, had been depending on an aunt 
to care for her children while she worked 
as an art teacher in a local school. When 
her aunt suffered a heart attack, the 
mother turned to the center for help. 

A fragile-looking young woman, walk- 
ing with a slight limp, brought in her two 
children, and watched them proudly as 
they ran excitedly to join their friends. 
The mother told us how the day-care 
center had changed their life — and hers. 

"I'm all right now. I don't even need a 
wheelchair or crutches. But for four 
years I did. It was a nightmare trying to 
care for my children when I couldn't 
walk and didn't know whether I ever 
would again. After my husband left for 

MRS. DWIGHT D. EISENHOWER SAYS: "A community day-care program 
for children who — through no fault of their own — would without it be adrift, is a 
most worthy effort deserving wide and whole-hearted support. I am always 
warmly behind any project — such as these children's Day Care Centers — that 
is sponsored by a local community." 

MRS. HARRY S TRUMAN SAYS: "I am happy that something constructive 
IS planned for Day Care Centers for children. It is a project long overdue." 

(Corresponding statements by Mrs. Lyndon Johnson and Mrs. John F. Kennedy 
appeared in the June issue of the Journal.) 

work in the morning — he has a good job 
with the post office— I just had to let 
them run wild. Until we found the day- 
care center. In many ways the center 
helped me walk again. I found I could 
finally cooperate with the doctors in get- 
ting well, knowing my children were 
being properly taken care of." 

Other children may be enrolled at the 
center for up to six years. Two long-term 
pupils are Sally, four years old, and her 
six-year-old brother, Dan. Sally has 
bright-pink ribbons braided into her 
perky pigtails. Dan has lively brown 
eyes and a charming smile. 

"Daddy is in the Army in Germany," 
Sally told us. 

Dan added proudly, "He is a corporal. 
An electrician specialist. He fixes things. 
But he doesn't make much money yet. 
So my mother works. We come here." 

Thus family problems, and family ef- 
forts to solve them, combine to create 
the pool of youngsters whose parents 
cannot be with them all day. In Hous- 
ton, the day-care center has been left in- 

dependent about selecting the young- 
sters it will serve, and also about de- 
termining fees for each family. Inter- 
viewers do not confine themselves to the 
routine question about "annual income," 
but take into account the special prob- 
lems of each family. Some relatively 
high-income families are woefully in 
debt. Others must support many chil- 
dren on a modest paycheck. The service 
in Houston regretfully stops at age 12, 
although the day-care people believe 
that most youngsters of that age are no- 
where near ready to fend for themselves 
before and after school hours. 

Mrs. Bernice Moss, a caseworker su- 
pervisor said, "It's my feeling we ought 
to carry on through age fourteen. I hate 
to see those children wandering on the 
street with their house keys tied in the 
corner of a handkerchief. I know that 
they are old enough to be fairly safe — 
they won't fall out a window or lean 
against a gas jet — but it's a lonely thing 
to come home after school to an empty 
house. Some mothers try to leave plates 

of cookies, but cookies without the 
cookie giver are just not the same." 

A minor headache of the centei'illus- 
trates the accuracy of this statement. 
"We graduate children, but we can't al- ] 
ways say good-bye to them," one of the 
teachers told us. "Some of them, instead 
of going home after school, keep coming 
here to spend the afternoon. They know 
we can't permit it. They say they've ! 
come back to visit or to look for lost 
books or clothing. But they just want the 
feeling of belonging here again." 

The children obviously have a wonder- 
ful time at the center. The educational 
equipment is simple but of excellent 
quality, and compares favorably to the 
best that can be seen in private schools. 
There are the so-called Caroline Pratt 
blocks — geometric solids of sturdy white 
pine to build almost anything. 

Outdoors, the lOO-by-50-foot play 
yard, once green lawn, but inevitably 
muddied by the churning of active young 
feet, is now covered with a six-inch thick 
layer of chopped seashells. 

"Shells are good to fall on. They 'give' 
easily," Malcolm Host assured us. "And 
they stay white. They don't stain the 
children's clothing, or muck up their 
shoes. I believe mud is healthy, but it's 
hard to explain that to a working mother 
who has to face a wash load at ten P.M." 

The center's outdoor play equipment 
includes swings, a slide, a jungle gym 
and a basketball hoop, which gets a 
steady workout by the older youngsters. 
There are also two small wood play- 
houses that serve variously as homes, 
forts, ships at sea, Dorothy's house in 
re-enactments of the Wizard of Oz, pal- 
aces, prisons, airplanes and, of course, 
moonbound space ships. 

Take this earner 

Uust drop in the film and shoot 

Mrs. Gray, who is a professionally 
trained teacher, worries about what the 
youngsters had for breakfast. "I know 
some parents stuff the kids full of oat- 
meal and eggs," she says. "But I also 
know others who get only canned juice 
and a piece of toast. Some of them won't 
take any more than that no matter how 
you urge them— yet they are starting off, 
many of them, at six o'clock in the morn- 
ing. Some earlier. At eight o'clock they 
are ready for a proper breakfast." 

Next year the center plans to provide 
a daily 10-cenl breakfast of juice, eggs or 
cereal, toast and milk. The tuition al- 
ready provides for milk and crackers at 
9:30, a hearty hot lunch and another 
milk or juice snack at 3 P.M. 

.A-nother service that the center has 
established, perhaps considerably more 
important than breakfast, is the work of 
James Wilson, a 21-year-old college stu- 
dent who offers academic tutoring and 
i male companionship to the Caroline 
Green Center youngsters. Wil.son is a 
former Kagle Scout, majoring in prelaw 
at the University of Houston. We 
watched as he put six-year-old Jimmy 
through a flash-card drill. 

"Hig Y, little y; big .'\, little a; big M, 
little m," Jimmy said confidently. 
"Mix them up some more, but don't 
give me R or P, I can't stand them." 

Wilson grinned and flashed an li. 

"P," said Jimmy, and then, as Wilson 
shook his head, "Avj, phooey, you tricked 
me. That's K, isn't it? It is? Oh, I knew 
it all the time, I was just fooling you. 
I'm pretty smart today, hey? Are you 
proud of me?" 

Wilson fondled him by shaking his 
shoulder with flattering man-to-man 

roughness. Jimmy grinned, and scam- 
pered off to play with a yellow truck. 

"Jimmy is a bright youngster, but he 
has trouble recognizing letters," Wilson 
explained. "I usually talk to the teacher 
on the telephone and find out what's 
needed. Together we're discovering some 
interesting things about tutoring. For 
example, a young child with a short at- 
tention span seems to learn more in two 
ten-minute lessons spaced an hour apart 
than in a half hour of solid work. 

"Also, a tutor who can make a fresh 
start with the child gets along faster and 
better than the regular teacher." 

So research, too, goes on in a good 
day-care center; it is a natural laboratory 
of child behavior, where new ideas un- 
fold every day. "I wake up each morning 
with new plans," Host says. He is cur- 
rently trying to persuade his 36-member 
board of directors to establish psycho- 
logical training for staff members; to 
start a "wider horizons" program that 
will include trips to museums, wildlife 
areas, science laboratories; to build a 
book and music library; to hire a con- 
sulting nurse and doctor; and to set up 
classes in carpentry, mechanics, cooking. 

The members of the board, a sympa- 
thetic but hard-headed group, listen pa- 
tiently. They know there is neither the 
money nor the personnel available to 
race ahead on so many fronts at once, 
but they like the idea that Malcolm 
Host wants to race. The board members 
are a diverse group among them are an 
insurance man, a pediatrician, a house- 
wife, an architect, a lawyer, a minister, 
an oil-company executive and an official 
in the local National Association for the 
.\dvancement of Colored People. 

The four Houston day-care centers are 

racially integrated. The move was made 
in 1964. Four white families withdrew 
their children. One has since returned. 

"There was no uproar, no indignation 
meeting, no strike," Mrs. Miriam Kal- 
mans, the center's education consultant, 
told us. "About one third of our young- 
sters are Negro, and most of them come 
from homes where the parents are deter- 
mined to raise themselvesup. If anything, 
the Negro families have been an asset to 
the center. But the truth is, they came 
in and we scarcely noticed." 

-A.fter the center's closing hours, we 
went to visit the house of lively nine- 
year-old Bobby Gibson— the boy who is 
first to arrive at the Caroline Green 
doorstep every day. Bobby's mother is in 
her early thirties; she is a plump woman 
with the roses-and-cream complexion so 
often found in women who are fair and 
round. She asked us to call her Ethel and 
introduced her husband as Fred. 

He told us that he is 33 years old. He 
is slim, wiry, deeply tanned and has the 
weathered face of a man who has done a 
lot of squinting at the sun. He lets his 
wife do most of the talking. 

Bobby's mother told us, movingly, 
what the day-care service has meant to 
their family. "Fred and I believe in fam- 
ily spacing," Ethel said, "but Fred had 
seven brothers and sisters, and saw his 
mother break down and wear out before 
her time. We agreed we wouldn't have 
more children than we could care for. 

"When we married, Fred said he 
wanted to go on with his education. He 
earned his high-school diploma while he 
was in the Navy. But he wanted to go 
into industrial traffic and transport. 
He's always sort of been in love with 

trucks and trains." She turned to her hus- 
band and asked, "Haven't you, Fred?" 

He nodded as she continued. "Fred 
has a real feeling for that kind of job," 
she said. "So I told him, 'OK, you go to 
school and I'll work.' He started taking 
courses at the University of Houston, 
and he got a part-time job in a garage. 
Then I discovered I was pregnant. We 
were both happy about it, but we knew 
it meant hard times. When Bobby was 
born, I just couldn't leave him until he 
was of school age. Fred had to drop out 
of college and take a full-time job. We 
were doing all right financially— but 
have you ever tried to live with a man 
who feels like he's tied to a stake? It al- 
most broke up our marriage." 

Fred said apologetically, "It was just 
that I felt I had something more to give 
and to get out of life. I hated saying to 
my wife, 'OK, now Bobby is five years 
old, you'll have to get a baby-sitter and 
go back to work.' It was Ethel who said 
it— but we both knew it had to be done." 

There followed, they told us, a long 
succession of neighbors or hired women 
for Bobby. One woman locked him in a 
ground-floor bedroom of her home and 
kept him there all day long, except for 
short trips to the bathroom. Another was 
motherly and kind, but turned out to be 
an irresponsible alcoholic. Still another 
was methodical and calm, but so remote 
that Bobby became withdrawn. 

"Bobby is the kind of child who needs 
to earn attention and respect," his 
mother said. "It's because he's small for 
his age. He's nine, but he looks six. 
That's why he's always chinning himself 
on the top bar of the jungle gym, or try- 
ing to walk on the ceiling. He has to 
learn that he can never be King Kong, 

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This self-adhering pad can be cut to any size, 
shape desired. Flesh colored — will 
not show through stockings. Gives 
you comforting relief from pain of 
corns, callouses, bunions, blisters, 
whenever shoes rub, chafe or pinch. 


A Superior Moleskin 

M».....Eat better ^ 
and faster with - ' 


When falHc teeth v.i-X on your nerves, many 
dcntlJitu lilvf- special PA8TEETH Powder. It 
helps hold tfinth In plac<- hplpn keep them 
from sIlpplriK or dropplriK so you feel more 
Becure. FA8TEETH cu«hlrjn« lender «umH no 
you can bile harder, eal fa'-.ler v/lth Kreater 
Cfjmfort. FA.STKETH helpB you Hp<ak more 
clearly wllhout embarra«Mment. II f:hcck« 
"plau- odor." Ijciilureo thai tit are evurntlal 
Uj health, 80 mt: your dentist rcKUlarly, fJet 
FA8TEFrH today at all drug counlern. 

DAY CARE continued 

but he can excel at other things. Fred 
was terribly upset when he saw Bobby 
get so shy and frightened," she con- 
tinued. "He said his son was more im- 
portant than his work, and got ready to 
quit school again so that I could stay 
home. I was against it, and we had a real 
fight. I got so mad I walked out of the 
house and got on a bus to visit a girl 
friend. On the bus I overheard two 
women talking about the center. 

"I got ofl the bus and looked up the 
center in the telephone book. I called 
right away, got an appointment, and 
within two weeks Bobby was enrolled. 
He liked it at once. The worst thing that 
can happen to him is to have Mrs. Gray 
look down his throat and decide he is 
catching a virus or a cold and has to go 
home. That's why they play the little 
game with the flashlight. He just loves 
the place. It's done so much for him. 

"It's done a lot for Fred and me, too. 
Now I can go to work without worrying 
all the time about Bobby, and I even do 
a better job — I'm a speed typist. And 
Fred has been able to continue his 
schooling — he's in his junior year now. 
The center has made it possible for the 
three of us to have a better life. It may 
sound materialistic, but we can now pro- 
vide better for Bobby's future. I suppose 
I sound like a one-man rooting section 
for the center — but everything I say is 
the plain truth. Isn't that true, Fred?" 

Fred nodded vigorously. Most of 
Bobby's problems were soon solved by 
the center, but there are other children 
who are not so easily helped. The center 
has its share of delinquents. "We get a 
couple of kids every year who experi- 
ment to find out how much they can get 
away with," Malcolm Host said. "But 
we have a good thing going for us here— 
the youngsters learn to love and trust the 
adults, and they feel a real affection for 
the center itself, so they discipline each 
other. Serious things get stopped before 
they start. The kids say to each other, 
'Oh, stop it, you're just a nuisance.' The 
new ones learn pretty quickly that you 
don't gain rank from breaking windows." 

Of course, the day-care center has 
other problems besides misbehavior. 
Medical emergencies are not unknown. 
Rules call for instant notification of the 
parent, who decides what is to be done. 

Malcolm Host told us, "A large num- 
ber of day-care workers I know look for- 
ward, as I do, to the day when all chil- 
dren will be offered this service. We are 
no longer simply operating a charity for 
the needy, nor have we ever been just a 
do-good project for lazy mothers. I be- 
lieve we are operating essential educa- 
tional institutions, and I believe that no 
community — however privileged or af- 
fluent—will very much longer want to 
do without a day-care center. The prob- 
lem, as I see it, is not where to go, but 
how to get there. 

"However, I know that if you get the 
right people together in the right spirit, 
the money will come and the buildings 
will come. Someday soon day care will 
be accepted as normally as kindergarten, 
and be considered no more of a charity 
than public school. I get telephone calls 
all the time from industrialists and the 
owners of big companies, who know 
what a good day-care center can do for a 
community, and they want to know how 
to go about starting a center for their 
emjdoyww' childrcti. I'ublic, private or 
industrial, we need thousands more right 
now. We can't afford to wait." end 


continued from page 55 

shout, 'OUey, Olley, Oxen . . . Free, 
Free, Free.'" And he comes and finds 
me. He leads me to the kitchen and tells 
me who I am and where I am. Then he 
has a second cup of coffee and I have 
my tea. He's really very funny. Like 
he'll say, 'Here she comes, Gadzilla, 
Queen of the Gypsies.' Then, while I 
assemble my brain, he tells me what's 
happening in the outside world." 

By then both phones are shrilling. 
The housekeeper Annie arrives at 1:30. 
Johnny kisses Joanne good-bye a few 
minutes later and heads crosstown in an 
NBC limousine. It's in his contract. 
Johnny loves his public's love, but he 
panics at the prospect of its public dis- 
plays of affection. He dreads getting 
trapped at a curb trying to hail a cab. 

Before the door slams, Joanne is on 
the phone. "I save all my calling till my 
husband leaves. That's one thing about 
me that drives him nuts. I do my visit- 
ing by phone. I've yet to hear him talk 
to anyone for more than five minutes." 

Joanne paints. She takes psychology 
and philosophy courses at Hunter Col- 
lege. And she designs her own clothes, 
even furs. The furrier said it was impos- 
sible to have welt seams in baby lamb. 
But Joanne has welt seaming. The white 
crepe sheath she wore to Johnny's first 
Vegas opening was her own design. "I 
wore it with a floor-length sleeveless 
cape. My husband's opening night is 
Christmas Eve, New Year's and the 
Inaugural Gala all in one. But I can't 
just wear a dress once and throw it 
away." This year she wore it to his 
second opening — disguised beneath a 
crystal-studded sleeveless cage. 

«Toanne Copeland Carson was born in 
San Francisco. Her parents separated 
when she was six months old. From that 
time until her father remarried 10 years 
later, she lived in convents, and spent 
summers being passed from one aunt to 
another or to a grandmother. Before the 
Carsons were married in 1963, she was a 
model and occasional actress, a fixture 
of Video Village, "one of television's more 
memorable programs." 

"My father introduced us," she says. 
"What could be more old-fashioned?" It 
seems Joanne's dad, then a personnel 
executive, now retired, had met Carson, 
then emcee of Who Do You Trust? One 
night Joanne was to meet her dad for 
dinner at Eddie Condon's. "I have a 
young man I want you to meet," he 
said. She groaned. "He probably wears 

glasses and hates sports," she remarked. 

"When he introduced me, I t|jought: 
Johnny Carson? That sounds familiar. 
Isn't he an announcer or comedian or 

After dinner the three went back to 
Joanne's apartment. Her father had 
brought a tape of Joanne's youngest 
sister playing the violin. "Give me your 
professional advice," he asked Johnny. 
"I advise she quit as soon as possible," 
he said. "I said to myself, I have to 
marry this man," Joanne recalls. "Any- 
one who can be that honest when he's 
trying to impress a girl's father!" Later 
that night Johnny and Joanne walked 
over to P.J. Clarke's for a hamburger. 
As they got up to leave, "I suddenly 
felt everyone staring at me," Joanne re- 
members. "Well, I knew I was pretty, 
but I didn't think I was that beautiful. 
'People are staring at me,' I said to 
Johnny. 'Is my slip showing or some- 
thing?'" He got bright red and said, 'I 
think it's me they're staring at.' And 
that's the first I knew he was a recog- 
nizable figure." 

►ut he's so difficult to talk to, so 
evasive, so reserved, I complained. "If 
you have some interest in common, you 
can begin to get to know him," she said. 
"With us it was professional football. 
We went to professional football games 
for months, and we'd talk about that, 
and then talk about other things. He's 
shy. It takes him a long time to know 
people. He's been betrayed and burned 
too many times. Out of a hundred peo- 
ple who want to know Johnny, maybe 
one wants to really know him. But he 
has me. He has Art Stark, his producer. 
He has Jeanne (his secretary). Johnny's 
life is so full he doesn't have time to get 
to know someone. The show is his life. 

"When he's with people he likes and 
enjoys, he is just like Johnny on TV. 
Very quick, very funny. Not on. He's 
not 'on' when he's on TV. That's him. 
When he's off camera in the office, he's 
under so much pressure — everybody is 
after him for something. He's not him- 
self at all. The show is like a party, 
small talk, unpredictable, a chance to 
see old friends. Johnny spends an hour 
and forty-five minutes every night at a 
party. That's why we don't run off to 
somebody's house when he gets home. 
The trouble with my husband is he's too 
normal. He is a loner, not like many 
show-biz personalities. He has no en- 
tourage. Johnny's entourage is six bags, 
two puppies and me." 

Joanne is a compulsive interior deco- 
rator. Officially. That is, she has profes- 

Sequiiied Dress«j« 

To order instructions for making the sequined fashions shown on page 
60 and on the cover, fill in coupon and mail to 


Box 84 
New York, New York 10046 

Instructions tell how to order the giant sequins for the dresses and the 
small sequins for the sweater plus the color and weight of yarn needed 
to duplicate our pictures. 

Please send me Journal sequin pattern(s) I 
for which I enclose $ (no stamps). ! 

.Instructions for purple crocheted j 
dress (JPL-45a) 50^ \ 

NAME (Please print) 

Instructions for orange crocheted [ address 

dress (JPL-45b) 50;! j 

-Instructions for striped knitted 1 
sweater on cover (JPL-45c) 50^ ' 



! I 


$250,0001 Here's your ticket. 

Now go to the store, match 
e bubbles and win! 

How many bubbles does it take to 
make Sprite so tart and tingling? Don't 
bother to count— the number on the ticket 
inserted below is your personal answer in 
this big new sweepstakes for Sprite. 

Go to your favorite store. Compare 
your ticket with the winning numbers 
displayed there. If your number matches, 
you've won one of the 2,500 prizes of $100. 

Sprite. So tart and tingling, we just 
couldn't keep it quiet. 


a dozen cones for 250 

ice-cream rich . . . with FEZ- 
the milk with twice the country cream 

Try this easy recipe 


party-pretty made with PET and KOOL-AID® 
"Instant Soft Drink Mix" 

1. Chill \% cups PET Evaporated Milk (1 tall 
can) in ice tray until almost frozen at edges. 

2. Put ice-cold milk into cold large bowl of elec- 
tric mixer(or3-quart bowl). Using cold beaters, 
whip at high speed until fluffy. 

3. Add Yi cup Sugar and 1 envelope your favor- 
ite flavor Regular Kool-Aid® (not Pre- 
Sweetened). Whip until stiff. 

4. Freeze in 1-quart ice tray until firm, 3 to 4 

5. Scoop into ice cream cones. 

< : ij 5 p,t Off 

"KCy'.-AlO" I -. t emilnti) liiiltmiil' of Grnrril foodl Cam 







Whatever your mood, match it with 
a quick-to-sew coverup made from 
sheets and towels. Be worldly in a 
sophisticated bath gown or delicately 
feminine in a lace ruffled robe. Let 
the pattern of a sheet or towel be 
the design, and indulge your whim. 

Soft and pretty is the way to feel 
in this long robe made from one 
twin-size sheet and trimmed with 
cotton lace and ribbon. Sheet by 
Lady Pepperell. Vogue 6644 ($1.00). 

Luxurious is the mood of this long 
dress made from two Callaway 
bath towels. Vogue design 6344 ($L50) 
is the basic guide. Put zipper in side 
seam, border on bodice. 

You can be lazy in this halter 
dress made from two J. P. Stevens 
towels. Using Vogue 67S)7 ($1.00) 

as :i guide, place pattein 
pieces to follow design of towel. 

Bordered with flowers, our Empire 
dress is softly romantic. Use one single 
sheet for the skirt and one pillowcase 
each for bodice and sleeves. Vogue 
6691 ($1.50). Linens. Cannon Mills. 

All sheets and towels available at lead- 
ing deparltneni stores. Sew exactly I he 
way you would with regular dress 
fabrics. Placement of the pattern pieces 
depemis on design of sheet or towel. 

Buy Vogue Patterns at the store that 
sells them in your city. Or order by 
nuiil, enclosing check or money order, 
from Vogue-Hutttrick Pattern Service, 
P.O. Box ti:iO, .Mtoona. Pa.' 'Cal- 
ifornia and Pennsylvania residents 
plrasv add sales tax 

UrMwingt by John Wood 

For a 


By the Journal Home 
Management Department 

^reyoua safety hazard? Most 
if us are. We all fall prey to 
langs, bruises and worse that 
an spoil the summer's fun. In 
his season for lawn mowing, 
)lunges in the pool, tinkering 
vith house and boat repairs, 
t's well to remember that 
■at'h has its special hazards 
,ind to take a close look at 
products with built-in safety. 

• Most of us who mow lawns 
.vorry about injuries to feet 
md hands from contact with 
he blade and from stones and 
.wigs the machine expels. 
D.P.E.I. (Outdoor Power 
Equipment Institute ) hasdone 
something about it their Tri- 
angular Safety Seal (it's es- 
itimated 90 percent of new 
mowers will bear it) indicates 
the machine measures up to 
the Institute's safety specifi- 
cations and tests. Require- 
ments include a discharge 
opening guarded to keep feet 
out of blade's path and blade 
housings below the lowest cut- 
ting position. Look for the seal 
'if I ills is your year to buy a 
new mower. 

• If you've ever left your 
mower while in operation and 
turned to see it cutting a 
swathe through your prize bed 
of lycori:< xquamiyera, you've 
vowed never to do it again. 
Just in case you should forget 
to flick the motion-control 
-switch, you might tie a finger 
to the handle with a pink rib- 
bon. Our suggestion for next 
year's models is borrowed from 
the railroads: a machine that 
stops if you take your hand 
from the handle. 

• Your husband could be sec- 
onds from disaster if he works 
with ordinary electric power 
tools while standing in wet 
grass or where water from a 
nearby hose may trickle under- 
foot. (Even 3-wire construc- 
tion may not protect from 
painful or fatal shocks.) But 
there's peace of mind in a 
group of new electric tools for 
the homemaker that is guar- 
anteed safe for use even when 
standing in water to repair a 
boat. (Millers Falls) 

• New devices may work in 
new ways. Even though you've 
used similar products before, 
read and follow the instruc- 
tions on a new one carefully- - 
chances are there are differ- 
ences. One caution : if electrical 
connections are too short be- 
tween your weatherproof ex- 
terior outlet and the job to be 
done, extend your reach only 

Of course you're attracted to new Gala's pretty borders— 
but more important . . . 

there's no softer . . . 

no thirstier 

no stronger paper towel 

Border to border, new Gala is the hardest-working paper towel 
you can buy. And that's the real beauty of it. 








with UL approved outdoor heavy-duty 
cord and connections. It's just plain dan- 
gerous for you to piece outdoor cords with 
ordinary electric extension cords. 

• Are you concerned about swimming pool 
flag and fence crashers, or toddlers crawl- 
ing through protective shrubbery? Con- 
sider new pool covers that roll on electri- 

cally or manually, are strong enough to walk 
on (Pool-Deck, Inc.); or an alarm that sig- 
nals in the house when an object falls into 
the pool. You adjust weight indicator, so 
junior's kite landing in the drink doesn't 
call out the home safety squad (by Olin). 

• People have been known to overreach, 
instead of moving the ladder, when paint- 

ing the house or repairing the roof. This 
can also be true when there's no place at 
hand to hold a paint can or a few tools. One 
inexpensive gadget grips a can of paint or 
a container for small tools at the ladder's 
side, keeping rungs and top clear. Don't 
forget that a good reason for not painting 
ladders is that cracks and breaks won't be 
hidden. end 

I bought my first Savings Bond 
25 years ago 

I was 14 years old 

Mr. Jack Benny, distinguished 
star of the entertainment world, 
may not have a computer's mem- 
ory \\ hen it comes to his age. but 
his dates are accurate about Sav- 
ings Bonds. 

The first Series E U. S. Savings 
Bond was issued 25 years ago on 
May 1. 1941, by Secretary of the 
Treasury Henry Morgenthau to 
President Franklin D. Roosevelt. 




^^^. Benny was already fa- 
mous as a radio comedian (the 
youngest in the business, by his 
own admission). And in the 
years which followed, he proved 
himself to be a good friend of the 
Bond Program, not only buying 
Bonds, but helping to sell them 
to the .American people. 

Through his efforts and those 
of countless other volunteers in 
radio and T\', stage and screen, 
and in all walks of life, the 
American people have bought 
more than $150 billion in Bonds. 

Of these, about Si 00 billion 
have been cashed in for emer- 
gencies, homes, retirement, etc. 
The balance is being held by tens 
of millions of .American families 
— a star-spangled nest-egg for 
the future. 

\N'hy not start building your 
nest-egg with Savings Bonds — 
for yourself, and to back up our 
men in \ ietnam. But give it a 
chance to build up by starting 
young. Like Jack Benny. 

Buy U. S. Savings Bonds 

If^ki ^' ^ Ouvrmt rnl dofi nol pay for this ad^trltitmrnt 1 1 Is prrirn 

i*Mtpfriit. -n wish Ihr Treotur} Ofpurtmrnt and Thr AJ\*r 

ilfJ as a public 
rlitint Council 

Milk Shakes 

Milk shakes, malts, frosts, floats, frap- 
p& or freezes— no matter what you call 
them, summertime hot weather is a 
great excuse to indulge, .\ppetite droop- 
ing on a hot morning? Try one of our 
breakfast shakes. Counting calories? 
We've invented several low-calorie 
shakes that are so rich-tasting you may 
still feel guilty ! 


A glass of this creamy, outrageously 
rich shake has the same amount of 
calories as a glass of whole milk ! 

cup mashed 1 Tb. nonfat dry 
banana (1 large milk solids 
banana) V4 cup dietetic 

Wt tsp. lemon juice vanilla ice cream 
y» cup water 

Mash a large banana to make ' 2 cup of 
liquid. ML\ with teaspoon lemon 
juice. Add 1 tablespoon nonfat dry milk 
solids and mix well. Stir in I4 cup soft- 
ened dietetic vanilla ice cream and U 
cup water. Serves 1. 


.\ fruit-flavored eggnog, made from a 
handy caimed milk shake available all 
across the country. 

1 (10.4-oz.) can 1 egg 

vanilla milk shake Nutmeg 
IV2 Tb. orange 

flavor instant 

breakfast drink 

Pour a 10.4-oz. can vanilla milk shake 
into individual glass. Stir in 1 ' j table- 
spoons orange-flavor instant breakfast 
drink and 1 beaten egg; mix well. Dust 
top with nutmeg. Makes 1 tall, terrific 


If you wan: to cut calories even more, 
use diet-type, artificially sweetened 

1 (1-lb., 14-oz.) can 2>,z cups dietetic 
apricot halves vanilla ice cream, 

V3 cup nonfat dry softened 
milk solids 

Drain a 1-lb., 14-oz. can apricot halves. 
Save liquid and chill. Puree apricots by 
pressing through a sieve. Mix apricot 
liquid with I3 cup nonfat dry milk 
solids. Combine with piu-eed apricots. 
I, Or you can whiz apricots, their liquid, 
and the dry milk solids in the blender.") 
.\dd 2 • ■> cups dietetic vanilla ice cream, 
and mix well. Serves 6. 


Kids fuss over breakfast? Let them 
drink this. You don't have to tell them 
how nutritious it is. 

1 (1.2-oz.) pkg. '/4 cup creamy 
chocolate instant peanut butter 

breakfast product V2 cup chocolate 

1 cup cold milk ice cream 

Combine 1 ( 1 .2-oz. ) pkg. chocolate instant 
breakfast product with 1 cup cold milk. 
Mix until instant breakfast product is 
dissolved. .\dd '4 cup creamy peanut 
butter and ' cup chocolate ice cream. 
Beat thoroughly with rotary or electric 
beater. Serves '1. 


Perfect for dieters and for people who 
are trying to strengthen their nails. Our 
Orange Foam has only 1 1 calories more 
than a can of liquid diet food, and is 
one of the nireHt ways we know of to 

drink gelatin. Which, by the way, is 
happily filling. 

2 envelopes orange 
instant gelatin 

cup cold water 

cup chilled 
orange juice 
1 cup dietetic 
vanilla ice crear 

Mix 2 envelopes orange instant gelatin 
drink with cup cold water, until 
gelatin is completely dissolved. .\dd ' 
cup chilled orange juice and 1 cup soft- 
ened dietetic vanilla ice cream. Mix 
until foamy. Serves 2. 


.\s milk shakes go, this is fairly low- 
calorie (,313, to be specific"). .\ great way 
to drink gelatin for building strong nails. 

1 envelope 
instant gelatin 

cup cold water 

Vi cup whole-berry 
cranberry sauce 

W* cup dietetic 
vanilla ice cream, 

Completely dissolve 1 envelope cran- 
berry-orange instant gelatin drink in 
^2 cup cold water. Stir in cup whole- 
berry cranberry sauce and cup soft- 
ened dietetic vanilla ice cream. Serves 1 . 


To transform into a punch, simply add 
more ginger ale— well chilled, of course. 

1 (12-oz.) pkg. 3 cups softened 
frozen peaches, vanilla or peach 
partially thawed ice cream 

IV^ cups ginger ale 

Mash a 12-oz. pkg. frozen peaches, 
which need not be completely thawed. 
Mix with 1 • 2 cups ginger ale and 3 cups 
softened vanilla or peach ice cream. 
Serves 6. 


Tired of "just plain" iced tea? Try it 
this way! 

2 cups freshly made 4 cups lemon 
strong hot tea sherbet, softened 
cup coarsely Mint sprigs 
chopped fresh 


Pour 2 cups freshly made strong hot tea 
over ^2 cup coarsely chopped fresh mint 
and let stand about 10 minutes. Drain 
tea from mint and chill. .\t serving time, 
mix chilled tea with 4 cups softened 
lemon sherbet. Garnish with mint sprigs. 
Serves 6. 


Ever dropped a few melon balls into a 
milk shake? Great thought! 

1 (16-oz.) bottle 1 (12-oz.) pkg. 

ginger ale frozen melon 

4 cups lemon balls, thawed 

sherbet, softened 

Combine 1 (, 16-oz. ^ bottle ginger ale 
with 4 cups softened lemon sherbet. Mix 
well. Pour into 6 glasses. Drop 3 or 4 
thawed melon balls into each glass. 
Serves 6. 


Jamaica because it's flavored with rum. 
If you like thick, thick shakes, stir in 
an extra scoop or two of softened ice 

1 Tb. rum flavoring 2 (10.4-oz.) cans 

2 (12-oz.) cans vanilla milk shake 
cola drink IVi cups vanilla ice 


Combine 1 tablespoon rum flavoring 
with 2 (12-oz.) cans cola drink and 2 
(10.4-oz.) cans vanilla milk shake. Put 
a scoop of vanilla ice cream (about '4 
cup) in each of 6 glaases and fill witli 
cola mixture. Serves 6. end 



Why is Heinz 
the proud pickle? 

In a world of the short-cut and 
commonplace, we stand alone. 
The proud pickle. Heinz. 
No compromise. No shilly-shally 
Not in 97 years of making pickles. 
We know there is no easy way. 
So we stop at nothing. And start 
with choice cucumbers, grown 
up and ready for picklehood. 
They bruise easy, so we pick 
them by hand. One by one. 
And packing? Pickles 
don't like to be squeezed. 
So we give them a little 

elbow room, let them breathe. 
And they absorb more flavor. 
Everything is a matter of 
pride with us. That's why we 
use only pure ingredients 
and our very own recipes. 
Sure, it's a lot of work. 
And we're proud of it. Proud 
of pickles that taste the way 
no other pickles do. Crisp. 
Full-bodied. Savory. Heinz. 
Now, if you were the best-tasting 
pickle, wouldn't ^fffft?^^^ 
you be proud? ^^00^*^^^^ 

Home u 

m CaU 



By Margaret Davidson 
Home Management Editor 

Calling all 
picnickers ! 
July opens 
the season for eating 
under the skies. Along 
with our own wish for a 
Happy Fourth, we add 
pointers for picnic-s. If 
you expect to celebrate 
far afield, do take spe- 
cial care of perishable 
foods. They will look 
better, taste better and, 
most important, be safe 
to eat. (A rule of thumb: 
No perishable foods are 
safely left at room tem- 
perature for more than 
four hours — and the 
time must be shorter 
when temperature soars. 
Some keep-cold ideas: 
Superchill what you can, 
both to keep the food 
itself cold and to help 
other foods packed 
around it stay chilly. 
For instance, freeze 
c-akes, cookies and sand- 
wiches ( meat, cheese, 
fish and peanut-butter 
fillings freeze well, but 
omit lettuce and add on 
arrival i. Beverages, such 
as coffee, tea and juices 
(milk is the exc-eption) 
have a cold start when 
frozen in ice trays — the 
cubes melt as they go. 
Your own picnic pack 
probably has an assort- 
ment of carriers to keep 
foods cool, but if addi- 
tions are in order, you'll 
find a wonderful array 
of chests and insulated 
containers available. 
Everj- picnic should in- 
clude something warm — 
even on the hottest day. 
Little, indi\idual ther- 
mos jars of hot soup or 
consomme, tea or cofiFee 
travel well. If there's 
to be a campfire, con- 
sider individual foil- 
wrapped pieces of 
chicken, com on the 
cob, or a medley of 
frozen vegetables to 
heat in foil on a rack above the coals. 

A reader writes: "What I 
like best about our carpeted 
t kitchen floor is that it looks 

for kitchens is a new idea, it's good to 
have your report. 

A 1 14-inch braided nylon 
line lifted John H. Glenn 
Jr. from the Friendship 7 
after his breathtaking trip into space. I 
examined a length of it the other day, 
and marveled at the way the outer 
strands were woven around a center core 
to give a line both tough and smooth. 
Most of us don't have cargoes as pre- 

pad should be cut 2 inches smaller in 
each direction than the rug it fits under. 
To keep rugs and pads aligned, use 
double-faced tape between them. 

a H 

Did you know there are 
new pleated-foil baking 
cups sturdy enough to use 
without muffin pans? Just plac-e them 
on a baking sheet. We like them for 
baking mtiffins and cupcakes in the 
larger sizes, and for chilling indi\'idual 

Northern gives you more softness for the money 
than any other tissue you can buy 



good aii the time. With the floor cover- 
ing we r nd before, there were times when 
the ft'KjC i'^jked clean, polished and 
smilir But fhese were brief moment.s, 
since w t.avc- four children and a dog." 
Mrs. Ru h Wi ^>bf•r of Des Moines ha.s 
found her nyloi: carpet easy to clean, 
and quiet to ase. \nd, as a mother of 
small children, ^he appreciates the 
saving when dishes they drop don't 
break. Thank you, Ruth; since carj>et 

cious as a spaceman to lift, but a line of 
freshly washed clothes rates as pretty 
important when it's hung in the sun. If 
you are looking for a new clothesline, 
you'll find Samson cord made the same 
way as John Glenn's was, except not as 
thick and the outside sheath is cotton. 

If rooms look cooler to you in 
summer with lots of bare floor 
showing, it's important to 
anchor small rug.s and runners for 
safety's sake. Ozite's Stay-tite is one 
such anchoring— it's rubber with a non- 
skid suriace, and it can be cut with 
scissors to the proi>er size. The anchor 

servings of relishes and sauces in the 
smaller sizes. . . . There is a new garden 
tool that takes the place of two? Bissell's 
adjustable rake has a slide device on the 
handle that changes the spread from 
wide for lawn raking to small for reach- 
ing comfortably under and around 
shrubs and flowers. . . . The newest baby 
diapers stretch? .\ good idea, too, for 
baby can kick, wiggle and squirm to his 
heart's delight. Th^ Curity diai)€rs, by 
the way, come folded to size to save time. 

nudged into the job last weekend by two 
circumstances: Others would be using 
the range while I was away, attti the 
oven had reached that point where it 
was really distressingly dirty. Isn't it 
typical — when I finally got to the job, it 
was easier than I'd remembered, with 
the new oven cleaners. I used a Dow 
cleaner this time; sprayed the .slightly 
warm oven, and with an easy swipe the 
lining came clean. It was all over in 25 
minutes. Now for some items they don't 
normally tell you about 
oven-cleaning. If your 
oven has a light, use a 
bit of freezer tape over 
the sT*-itch on the door 
frame to keep it off while 
you spray— so liquid 
w^on't spatter on a hot 
lamp bulb. Then rinse 
the cleaned lining at least 
twice, for leftover stain 
might scorch with the 
first heating and make 
the nearly clean oven 
look dreadftil. Finally, 
do remember to heat 
the oven at least 10 
minutes before using it 
lj|B for food. Of course, the 
real ultimatein easy oven 
care these days is the 
kind that cleans itself— 
and next time that's the 
kind for me. 

If ever an 

I organization 
can be called 
a "helping hand, " it is 
the National Coimcil 
for Homemaker Ser- 
\"ices. It works with 5-50 
local agencies that ar- 
range for trained and 
supervised women to 
take the place of real 
horaemakers in times of 
illness, tension or other 
incapacity. They care 
for children, the sick 
and aging, and often 
keep homes together 
that might otherwise be 
broken. At a committee 
meeting the other day I 
listened to a report on 
how homemaker ser- 
^ices in New York City, 
in five years, had cared 
for close to 7,000 people 
in their own homes. This 
meant a two-way sav- 
ing: of $.5 million when 
compared with the cost 
through other facilities, 
and, even more impor- 
tant, in the dignity and 
well-being of families 
kept together during 
crises. It is such a 
worthy service; one to remember if you 
have time or money to contribute. 

For several weeks I've 
been putting of! "doing" 
he oven until I was 

July is the time to consider 
some cold facts. For one, 
ice shatters easier when it 
is very cold. For instance, ice from a 
freezer chips easier than that from a 
regular refrigerator compartment. When 
there is a party in your future, you 
might remember this and crush your 
ice ahead of timo and store it in plas- 
tic bags in the freezer. It's also a fact 
that ice prepared this way ha.s greater 
chill-power than ice which is crushed just 
as it's used. end 

CARSON continued from page 100 

to spend on something else. Johnny says, 
'Joanne, please, I can't afford to have 

uated from the Settlement House proj- 
ect, but they haven't graduated from 
Joanne. "We talk about politics and 
morality. I got them to subscribe to 
Time magazine and introduced them to 
ballet. I showed them how to shop at 
Saks Fifth Avenue on a budget— that 
it's better to buy one $50 dress than 
five $10 dresses. I got them to work in 
Lindsay's campaign . . . now we're going 
to do volunteer hospital work. The six 
of us." The group still meets every 

Tuesday night in the Carson apartment. 

At 7:30 every night— except Tues- 
days—Joanne stops whatever she is do- 
ing "to devote an hour to my husband. 
I soak in a bubble bath and do my hair 
and make myself as beautiful as pos- 
sible. Some nights I put on a long hostess 
gown. Or I might wear pink Doctor 
Dentons and my hair down." 

The show is taped at 6:.30. By 8:30 
Johnny is home. He heads for the 
kitchen and a cup of coffee. "Unless he's 
feeling overcoffeed. Then he has a cup of 
bouillon and unwinds with the afternoon 
papers. Dinner we play by ear. My get- 
ting dinner means serving what Annie 

has cooked and left in the oven. Pot 
roast or meat loaf or macaroni and 
cheese. Sometimes all he wants is pop- 
corn and a glass of milk. He pops it 
himself." Johnny has acquired only one 
new sophistication about food since com- 
ing east from Nebraska. He takes his 
steak medium now instead of well done. 

Maybe twice a month they go out. 
To the theater or dinner at Danny's 
Hide-a-way, where the clientele is blase 
toward celebrities. "Saturdays and Sun- 
days are amateur nights. 
We never go anywhere." 
They never miss a 
Giants' football game, 
and summer weekends 
are spent on the boat, 
the Deductible. "Our life 
is more normal than the 
shoe clerk's around the 
corner," says Joanne. 

She picked up a copy 
of the Encyclopaedia Bri- 
tannica, Vol. 14, Light- 
ning to Maximilian. 
"Here's what Johnny 
was reading last night," 
she said. "We watched 
All the King's Men on 
The Late Show. He 
wanted to know more 
about Huey Long. From 
Long he turned to Ma- 
laria, then Man, then 
Magnetism and Mar- 
riage. But he's not only 
curious. He's funny, too. 
Naturally funny. And 
fast. Like when he acci- 
dentally spilled a whole 
bottle of aspirin into the 
sink where I was wash- 
ing some hand laundry. 
'Your stockings have a 
headache,' he said. That 
was fast. 

"When I come home 
from the hairdresser 
(Mr. Kenneth; on a 
windy day, he'll say, 
'That cost me 15 clams. 
I'll take you down to 
the Rockefeller wind 
tunnel and do the job 
for free. I could run you 
through a car wash and 
get the same effect.'" 

One night recently 
was a major event for 
the Carsons. They went 
to a party. "Johnny was 
reading all those articles 
about what hermits we 
were, and he said, 
'Maybe we should so- 
cialize more.' Every six 
or eight months we go 
out, and we're reminded 
why we don't socialize 
more and we go home 
and are hermits again. One lady was 
auditioning the whole evening. Her 
friends must have told her she was a 
natural for The Tonight Show with her 
funny stories about horseback riding 
for her flabby thighs. And I thought 
my face would crack from smiling when- 
ever anybody said, 'Your husband goes 
to bed with me' or 'Oh, Johnny, you're 
the man who keeps me awake nights.' 
As if we had never heard the lines 

"We've decided we prefer being alone 
with each other. It's much more fun. 
My husband is a loner. And I guess I m 
becoming a loner, too." end 

sional credentials and advises friends. 
"But not for money— then they feel 
free to call you at any hour." 

What saddens Joanne about their 
newly purchased vacation retreat in Las 
Vegas is that they bought it furnished. 
".\11 in purple and green, my two least 
favorite colors." But she's sneaking out 
one pseudo-French Provincial piece 
at a time and replacing it with that 
El Greco Carson look. 

you save me so much money!' See th 
bar? The whole thing cost less than $5( 
I tacked the bamboo to the walls mysel 
with a staple gun. It's just garden fenc 
ing, $6 a roll. And the beams are red 
wood, the cheapest lumber you can buj 
I got the nets and old floats for nothin 
on the wharf at San Francisco. An^ 
that's an old badminton net I threw int 
the washing machine with brown dye. 

eJohnny took a vaca- 
tion from The Tonight 
Show the first week in 
January and they flew 
to Vegas. "I use TWA 
like a moving van," 
Joanne says. "This time 
I lugged a giant iron 
horse along. They 
warned Las Vegas TWA 
it was coming, and they 
said, 'If New York could 
get it on, we can get it 
off.' " At the end of the 
week Johnny flew home. 
Joanne stayed on to tear 
down a few walls und 
things. I found her there 
consulting a carpenter 
at 10 P.M. "There'd be a 
bit of plywood left to 
throw away," the car- 
penter mused. "We 
don't throw anything 
away," Joanne said. 
"I'll figure out some- 
thing to do with it." 

What had been a four- 
bedroom house with a 
carport was now a two- 
bedroom house with a 
library, a bar and a car- 
port transformed into a 
den. Twenty-four hours 
after her husband's de- 
parture, his bedroom 
had been transformed 
from a pastel boudoir to 
a dark-tweedy masculine 
haven. She had just fin- 
ished painting a still life 
of oranges to pick up 
the color of the spread 
in her own adjoining 
bedroom. "He has such 
terrible hours when he's 
working out here," she 
said. "He really needs 
his rest. That's why we 
have separate bed- 

She was furious about 
a report setting Johnny's 
income at $400,000. "He 
works so hard to build 
up rapport with his au- 
dience, and in one sen- 
tence they set him so far 
above them. Why don't they ever write 
how much he gets after taxes and 
agent's fees and manager's commissions 
and child support. Why, we live like peo- 
ple with an income of . . . maybe . . . 
$80,000 a year. I did this whole house 
out of my allowance." 

She haunts the Vegas furniture super- 
markets, the discount houses with names 
like Fantastic Fair and Wonderland. 
"Most of it is the gaudiest junk, but if 
you have an eye, you can isolate what's 
good. Would you believe those lamps cost 
only $7.99 each? I love sales. If Johnny 
gives me $100 to buy something and I 
can get it on sale for $20, then I have $80 

Towel 100% Cotton, Bath Rug 50% FortrelS'-Polyester. 50°/s Nylon Acrylic. Fortrel is registered trademark of Celanese Corp 

There are three slot machines in the 
corner. Joanne hates to gamble. "I feed 
them nickels and dimes till I run out of 
change, then I open them up with my 
key and start all over again. I like a sure 
thing. Like a cigarette machine. You put 
in the money and you just know some- 
thing's always going to come out." 

She excused herself to call New York. 
"It's one of my girls ... I had a letter 
from her . . . ver>- sad and lonely." 
Joanne's girls. They were assigned to 
her at the Lenox Hill Settlement House 
three years ago when she volunteered to 
teach a class in grooming and makeup. 
They were 18 then. They have grad- 


continued from page ^9 

family talk. Because I lived in only a 
few rooms of my house, their homes 
seemed to blaze with light. Afterward, 
dri\ing back through the dark village, 
the pain would come stronger than ever. 

Mourning is a necessary illness. You'll 
never be well without it, and you can- 
not rush it. Grief is amazingly physi- 
cal—a knot in your stomach, a pain in 
your chest or throat. 
You often reproduce the 
sj-mptoms of your hus- 
band's last illness be- 
cause you are trying to 
take his place and to do 
the jobs he did for you. 

These symptoms ap- 
peared every time I 
tried to handle business 
affairs or to understand 
the terms o: my hus- 
band's will. When I be- 
gan to understand the 
cause, the symptoms 
disappeared. I stopped 
worrying about display- 
ing my ignorance, and 
demanded that my law- 
yer explain each matter 
carefully. Lawyers need 
you as much as you 
is impatient, and many 
of them are, slow him 
down or get another at- 
torney. When you do 
the best possible job for 
yourself and your chil- 
dren, you are respecting 

wc will uc iicaicu tjy tiie rcLugiiitiuu 

that we are all very much the same. 
When we really understand that all 
human beings feel guilty, that we are 
all angry when we are left behind, then 
we do not feel so ashamed or alone. 

The discovery that we care is the big 
step forward. Because I am vain, I was 
troubled by the dark lines and shadows 
that appeared under my eyes. I had the 
effrontery to think I was different, that 
I would not look like a new widow. Now 

nave iieipeu lue, lor mere is a iirie Kin- 
ship among women. Through the cen- 
turies we have had to help each other, 
and we can be proud of the progress we 
have made. Today our great lack is that 
we are not prepared for separation - 
from our children as they grow up, from 
our youth, and finally from our hus- 
bands. We are bewitched by our culture 
every day of our lives. We are sold sex 
and glamour until every wrinkle be- 
comes a tragedy and the loss of youth 


Lfter months have 
passed and your con- 
fusion is gone, your 
sense of loss may very 
well be keener. I believe 
that we mourn in stages : 
Nature supplies us with 
a regulating mechanism 
that only allows us to 
feel as much emotion as 
we can bear. When nec- 
essary, we are mercifully 
put in a state of shock. 
Our understanding is 
incomplete even when 
we think we have ac- 
cepted reality. Recently 
I saw an auto accident 
and thought quite sim- 
ply, / must tell Harold 
about this tonight. 

During the first 
months, husbands and 
wives mourn the many 
ways in which they took 
care of each other. When 
I discovered that I could 
live without my hus- 
band as he could have lived without me, 
then, months later, the real pain ap- 
peared. I saw an old snapshot of him in a 
swimming pool holding out his hands to 
one of our sons, and then I knew I had 
lost the man. Beyond dependence, I had 
lost love. This is the core of our lives. I 
was strong enough now to understand. 

Knowledge comes through both our 
minds and our emotions. We pass 
through the panic, the anger and the 
guilt. We, could I have prevented 
thi.H death? Did I contribute to thi.s 
death? We recover only at our own 
pace, and, while we jjain reHpect for the 
remarkable diversity of human reaction, 

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positive protection 

I know these were honorable scars. The 
world needs people who care. 

From the evening I first saw him up 
on a platform on a New York street 
corner speaking out for the election of 
Franklin Delano Roosevelt I knew that 
my husband was a man who was in- 
volved in his world. The French call it 
engage. We might call it love. He worked 
all his life for a world at peace, a world 
free of racial and religious bigotry, and 
he left his concern as a legacy to his 
children and to me. 

A man's influence on a woman con- 
tinues, and now I have a need to con- 
tribute in my own way. Other women 

a disaster. Suddenly the extreme separa- 
tion from a husband exposes what is 
wrong with our lives. 

Our homes are too small. We live in 
a world, not a house. We need work and 
social purpose outside as well as within 
our homes, all our lives. We must pro- 
vide not only for our old age, but for 
our middle age. We live half our adult 
lives after our children are grown. Very 
few of us live up to our capacities. We 
can take good care of our children and 
still participate in our world. The child 
psychologist. Dr. Bruno Reltelhcim, 
says that loo much inveslmenl in our 
children is harmful to the children, be- 

cause tney leei tnai too mucn is de- 
manded of them in return. Children 
benefit when their mothers are complete 
human beings. Through teaching^ poli- 
tics and social work we can extend our 
family love to other families, and don't 
let anyone tell you that this is being 
"masculine." When we feel, as Eleanor 
Roosevelt did, that we are mothers of 
all children, we are being truly feminine. 
When we face our old age with active 
concern for today's aged, we are being 
human. When we com- 
municate our feelings 
through the arts, we are 
communicating human 
feelings. Just as we help 
our children to grow up 
out of dependency, so 
we must help ourselves 
to grow so that we are 
not stranded when we 
are left alone. Despite 
my loss, I feel awakened 
from a lethargy in which 
everything important 
was determined for me 
by the structure of my 
family life. 

I read a great deal, 
yet never understood 
the search for "identity" 
in modern writing. I 
thought I knew who I 
was — my husband's 
wife, my sons' mother. 
My husband was a deep- 
feeling and intelligent 
man. His sons were 
growing up to follow his 
example. Now I know I 
was only a reflector of 
their lives, and that is 
not enough. It should 
not be enough because 
every person, man or 
woman, is special. 

There were certainly 
years I should have de- 
voted primarily to my 
family, but even then I 
frittered away time on 
recipes, cleaning and 
unnecessary fussing over 
my home and children. 
We have been led to be- 
lieve that unless we de- 
vote ourselves exclu- 
sively to our families 
we are cheating our- 
selves and our children. 

Discontent can be 
healthy. I thank my in- 
born restlessness that I 
found it necessary to 
attend a writing class. 
Like many would-be 
writers I collected hun- 
dreds of rejection slips, 
but I'm grateful for the 
work I did and for the 
disappointments. Without realizing it, I 
was preparing for this stage of my life. 

In a world that isolates lone women, 
I've gone alone to restaurants and been 
eyed with suspicion. I've been omitted 
from parties while lone men are in de- 
mand, but as long as I understand that 
this is a failing of our society, not my 
own I can find areas in which I'm ac- 
cepted for myself. Widows discover that 
our good friends arc still good friends. We 
make new ones and we lose a few. Often 
we become threats to insecure wives who 
have always flirted. We might tell these 
women that we understand jealousy 
because we, too, experienced it. 


'hen I first discovered that my hus- 
1 had angina, I began to ask how I 
d ever cope with death. And yet I 
coping. Life is very strong, and I'm 
ig on living. Life is a greater miracle 
1 a book, and perhaps I shall write 
book, too. My friend and editor, 
:e Norris, always told our writing 
3, "You must reach. Reach farther 
1 you know you can." Millions of 
ows today are reaching, perhaps not 
)f the eight million in the country, 
most of us. We reach, and we sur- 
e ourselves. 

/e are beginning to discover who we 
apart from our families. We must 
in our own way. I know now that 
is precious. I have no time for 
it does not interest me. How often 
ing married life have we all wanted 
ebel ! How often did we wish we had 
to study, travel, write, paint, 
•h. When you finally get the time, 
you be able to use it, or will you be 
those sad women who spend their 
playing cards in order to "kill 

Don Manker 

, in the longest, fullest days of the 

nle ants go huilding their forts 

igainst December, 
hubs we should choose among all 
lish and dear 

wonderful things those we shall 
want to rente tnher. 
.\hall we choose the days to he 
lettered in red? 

I saw you bathing in a pool — 
once you had an itchy nose and you 

Jt was a sign you were going to kiss a 

once or twice the wind blew up 
ilh rain 
houted us inside with sudden 
under — 

tse are things we counted as pure 

all these days are marked as days 
iif wonder. 

how shall we choose but to take 
them all together 
ay it was summer and mostly 
lovely weather? 




? Imagine kilhng that prec-ioua 
of which our husbands have been 
ved ! Games can be a happy diver- 
from work, but time is the measure 
existence— to be savored, to be used. 

are told that time is a great 
aler. That is only partly true. We 
anot sit back and wait. We must find 
place in time and participate in 
iiging about a decent future for other 
ople. To participate and to know I 
long to the world community helps 
; now. To worship with other people 
Ips me. My husband's death turned 
; back toward religion. I cannot pre- 
me to say this is right for everyone, 
hen my friend's young daughter died, 
e turned to atheism, yet she gave more 
herself to me than anyone I know. 
I have developed tolerance, too, for 
)men who do foolish things out of 
leliness. Isn't it odd that men can 
ther and talk comfortably in public 
aces, yet "nice" women must keep to 
emselves? We have nothing here like 
e pubs and cafes of Europe where 

So you're going by road. 

Something about American Tourister stops traffic. 

Could it be its molded elegance? 
Those classic colors? The lush brocade linings? 

Or is it the fact that American Tourister 
has more original design features than any 
other luggage around? 




You bet. It's all those things and more. 

And the more miles you travel, the more you 
appreciate the luggage that's made with extra 
attention. American Tourister. 

For those who really want the best, here It is. 
From $19.95*. 


•Slightly higher in the West. Also available in Canai3a. American Luggage Works. Inc.. Warren, Rhode Island 02685 

people of the neighborhoods gather. This 
is a lonely country for women. 

I know loneliness, and I cannot judge 
anybody. There is a curious contradic- 
tion between the criticism and the li- 
cense given to widows. We are set apart, 
yet some wives who feel imprisoned al- 
most envy us. Certainly they take a 
\ncarious interest in our lives. W^omen I 
once thought prudish have advised me, 
confidentially, to "take a lover." Per- 
haps they consider me a different person, 
no longer subject to their laws. 

Of course I need a lover, but one who 
is my closest friend. This is what I had. 
My standards are high, not because I'm 
so moral, but because I'm selfish. On 
occasions I've wondered: Shall I get 
involved with a man who is not free? 
I'd be alone on holidays and weekends, 
those good times when Harold and I 
used to take walks, swim, have friends 
in for dinner. That's not for me, and 
yet at times I've dropf)ed dishes un- 
accountably, and then I knew I smashed 
them to destroy the silence. You can 

hear the stillness in a room. A blaring 
radio cannot touch it. 

You get tired of other people's houses. 
When you see couples holding hands on 
the street, you feel desolate. Yet, though 
the statistics are against me, I still be- 
lieve that love will come to me when I 
am ready for it. I simply have to accept 
the fact that there is no man in my life 
now, and there may not be one for years. 
This acceptance frees me for limited 

Yesterday I dared to {continued) 


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arttoid ni\- nr?: cxxitail partj" alone, 
given by an organization in vrhirfi I do 
some work. When I entered the crowded 
rcKHn, I felt such extreme panic tliat I hid 
in the ladies' room. Finally I made m\ - 
seif go out and meet people and accept a 
drink. 1 had to rdearn the rules: to circu- 
late, not talk to anyone more than three 
minutes, to chang* partners. Soon I was 
in the swing, feeling the drink and talk- 
ing a little too much. But that's a good 
fault at a part^i . 

Once I looked up, expecting to see 
m\- husband smiling at me from across 
the room. The moment passed, and I 
was pleased to see a man who had been 
warm and friendly with us when Harold 
was alive, I went toward him eagerly, 
but he nodded and turned away. It 
took me a moment to understand. The 
man had been a widower for years. My 
a k i nrwaa probably embarrassied him. 

Someooe took my ann and drew me 
toward a comfortable married group. 
De^te everything. I still felt married. 
The woman who had reached out to me 
smikd and said, "Roz, it's a terrible 
thing to say, but you look ver>" well." 

The others turned to me, and when 1 
laughed at th»r imcertaint>-, it was as 
though I gave them pernuasion to laugh 
too. Then they looked re}ie\'«d. 

People are ui>eaa>- about death. They 
need reassurance as much as I do. 

"You Ictjow, we're proud of >'ou," 
another woman said, and I be}ie\-ed her. 
We embraced and turned to small talk. 

I left the party early, canying with 
ne ■fwne raieiv I had done as well as I 
cm. . easier. 

I . . eniog that 

smelled of approaching snow, delicious 
after the dry, overheated room. It was 
only five o'clock. I was to meet some 
friends for dinner, and decided to walk 
to the restaurant to clear my head. The 
skj- was a misted blue. Mica sparkled 
on the sidewalk under a row of street 
lights along the avenue. Our city shines 
in the earlj- evening. I had the sensation 

of floating rather than walking. Ahead 
of me I saw a tall, lean man come out of 
a building and hail a cab. His hair was 
a good strong gray like Harold's. I 
wanted to run to him, but stood very 
still. I forgot ! I had been to a party and 
I forgot. The man looked at me blankly, 
entered the cab and drove away. 

I thought as I walked that I have 









Editor's Note: This Fourth of July tribute is the first pubb'shed work 
of Miss Judy Hamm of Richmond. California, a 12-year-old Girl 
Scout going-on-13. Scout Hamm wrote us that she was working on 
her Creative Writer badge and one of the requirements for getting it 
was to submit a stor^^ to a magazine. We're glad she picked us and 
we hope her troop leader agrees with our editorial judgment. 


By Judy Hamm 

I would be proud when my citirens pledged their allegiance to me and 
when Scouts saluted me and when our National Anthem was sung . . . 

I would wave a welcome to all new American citizens to remind them of 
all the i>eople who fought, with weapons and words, to make America great . . . 

I would wave proudly when a voter walked past me on election day and 
droop a little when 1 thought of how many more jjeople could be voting . . . 

I would be proud to fly over the President of the United States on the day 
of his inaugural address and hear his words of solemn determination . . . 

I would be proud to wave over a classroom where a teacher was showing 
a future congressman how to read or teaching a future scientist math . . . 

I would be proud to be the symbol of my country and of the famous men 
and women who made it; George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Clara ,'.1 
Barton and John F. Kennedy ... t,!^ 

And I would wave over all the unfamous people who helped to spread my '.i 
famc — the pioneers who blaxed the first trails west, the doctors who gave 
their services freely to those who could not afford them, the editors, writers 
«xk1 reporters who kept the nation informed and the farmers who kept us .;v 
•uppbed with food ... ~ -ii 

If I were Old dory, I would feel very sad because I had'seen so many "'^ 
battles, but F>roud because 1 had flown through thetn all and will continue 
to for all the days to coote, -jV 





three loves now, three commitnie; :>. 
To myself, or I couldn't love an>v- 
To my intimates— m>- sons, family .. 
old friends— for I must have closer.t 
To society, because I am part of it ;. i 
want to make it better, however I 0..:.. 
Now that my family was dis[>ersed I 
was part of the larger himian famih . 

The other side of loneliness is f r. - 
dom. I didn't choose this limbo, but I 
can enjoy its infinite possibilities, and 
when I come out of it I will have found 
my purpose. Death brings \iolent sep- 
aration not only from a husband but 
from the mainstream of society. You 
must find your way back. In a good 
marriage, husband and wife are one 
entity. Death tears you apart, and for 
a while you are half a person. You must 
become a whole person again. 

As I put on my coat this morning to 
go to my volunteer job I think about 
the night after my husband died, when 
I awoke suddenly from a drugged sleep. 
I thought I heard his voice saying, 
"Roz?" I found my hands pressed hard 
against my chest, I was perspiring and 
my heart was beating rapidly. He had 
awakened me once like this when I had 
a nightmare to ask if I was all right. 

There's an old belief that those who 
die hover around for a while. A parent 
may be concerned about a child, a hus- 
band about a wife. They say that we 
who are left must free them to go on 
their way. He was sa\nng, I belie\tHl, 
what he used to say when he called 
from a distant city, "Well, Roz, I must 
go. Now you take care of yourself. " 

Months have passed, and I haven't 
yet bec»)me a whole person, but on tliis 
morning, as 1 close my front door, I be- 
lieve I H-ill have a good day. end 


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continued from paye 62 

problem, but after a series of tliree ses- 
sions the results were visible to all who 
witnessed the Academy Awards cere- 
monies last April, either in person or via 

It was an amazing transformation. 
Almost overnight Lynda blossomed 
from a fairly typical University of Texas 
coed into a low-key glamour girl who 
stole the show from a score of profes- 
sional Hollywood beauties. TV viewers 
and newspaper readers were astonished 
at the change in the President's daugh- 
ter. They still are. 

Lynda was directed to Masters by 
her beau, George Hamilton. Masters 
had done the hair of one-time actress 
Susan Kohner, daughter of agent Paul 
Kohner; Susan and George had once 
been engaged, and George remembered 
that Masters was highly thought of. So, 
through his press agents, Hamilton con- 
tacted Masters, and the latter agreed to 
"do" Lynda Bird on her visit to Holly- 
wood last March when she was a house 
guest at the Hamilton home. Masters 
dressed her hair and applied her makeup 
on a Friday night for a large cocktail 
party and then again the following night 
for an intimate dinner at the Hamilton 

All three sessions with the President's 
daughter took place at the Hamilton 
home, but the first time even the cele- 
brated Mr. Masters faced his task with 
a certain amount of trepidation. He re- 
calls: "I had no preconceived ideas 
about what I would do with her— al- 
though I kept in mind the WTiite 
House; the fact that she is a college girl 

and unaccustomed to wearing any 
makeup at all; that she was out of her 
element in Hollywood, and that I didn't 
want to put her in the position of com- 
peting with the glamour girls. 

"I didn't bring my makeup case, so 
we used Mrs. Hamilton's cosmetics. The 
first thing I noticed was that she has a 
very beautiful skin. .\ Pisces skin. It's 


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moist, fresh and dewy. No pores at all. 
I think it's her finest feature. 

"I knew I'd have to approach her 
slowly. I'm not sure that she ever wore 
anything but a little eye makeup and 
lipstick. As I recall from pictures, she 
wore her hair very simply, with just a 
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"That first night we used very little 
makeup. But I did try to get Lynda to 
arch her eyebrows a little. She'd never 
really arched them before, so I removed 
some of the brows from the underside. 

"I believe she thought the idea of 
arching eyebrows was a little shocking 
at first. But thank God for George 
Hamilton. He kept looking in on what 
we were doing every few minutes, en- 
couraging Lynda to go along with me. 

" 'Go ahead,' he'd say. 'Let him do it 
his way, Lynda.' 

"That first night I fixed her hair 
loosely and sort of Vassar-ish, to erase 
any idea from her mind that I was going 
to do something dramatic or glamorous 
or phony with it. 

"I also used a little brown eye shadow 
and a light, moist cream rouge on her 
face. It doesn't take very much, because 
her skin is so light and smooth. 

"Lynda is a tall girl, and she needs 
long hair. It is very dark brown, a shade 
short of being black, and she wears it 
just below her ears. Lynda has a good 
face. Her cheekbones are just the slight- 
est bit prominent. Her large brown eyes, 
I think, are another attractive feature 
of her face. 

"She was quiet most of the time I 
worked with her. She knew I was con- 
centrating, and when we did say any- 
thing, it was light and impersonal. I tried 
to keep the chatter going smoothly so 
she wouldn't begin to worry or get self- 
conscious. It's something I do with all 
my clients, especially the young ones 
who don't know very much about make- 

"The second time I did just about the 
same thing I'd done the afternoon be- 
fore. She was in a robe [continued) 


LYNDA BIRD roiilimivd 

asain aiui liad slianipooml her liair. But 
iliis time I went a little farther. I arehed 
the e\ ebrows a little more and fixed her 
hair pretty much as I did before. It was 
the same thing, but 1 did put on a little 
more eye liner and eye shadow, both 
brown, and I made the lipstifk a little 
stronger. But 1 didn't use lip gloss. I 
don't believe a girl looks natural with 
it. She's better off if she licks her li|)s 
once in a while. 

"I didn't use a lip- 
si uk base on Lynda 
either, and I didn't try 
the very light or whitish 
lipstick. I think it looks 
like hell. 

"Actually, I didn't do 
a great deal on either 
night to change Lynda's 
appearance. It amount- 
ed to doing a few small 
things effectively." 

n Lynda Bird re- 
turned to Southern Cali- 
fornia for the Academy 
Awards ceremonies. 
Masters was siunmoned 
to the Hamilton house 
on April 18, the day of 
the Oscars, at about 
2:30 P.M. He worked on 
Lynda until about 4:30. 
This time there was a 
difference in his atti- 
tude as well as hers. 
Both realized it was a 
very special occasion, 
and Lynda apparently 
was willing to g.\mble 
with Masters and go 
along with his ideas for 
changing her appear- 
ance considerably. It 
was a bit of a drama, 
and Masters tells it best: 

"It had been a month 
since I'd seen Lynda, 
but I noticed she'd lost 
a lot of weight. It made 
her look even taller, of 
course, and she is learn- 
ing to carry her height 
graciously. That's im- 
portant to all tall girls. 

"She was busy on the 
telephone talking to peo- 
ple, and George was 
dashing in and out again. 
So was his mother. 

"I put my hands on 
her hair and said, 'OK, 
you're going to be pho- 
tographed a great deal 
tonight. And we're go- 
ing to put on a makeup 
that photographs to best 
advantage.' I said this 
because the makeup I 
was using was very different from what 
I lei her wear for the cocktail party or 
the intimate little dinner. 

"By this time I felt we knew one an- 
other better, and I thought it would be 
good for her to know a little about the 
glamour businesw. That Washington dip- 
lomatic s<"t could use a little chic and 
glamour at t,ome of their parlies. They're 
a terribly sfjuarc bunch; what they think 
is chic is really drfadfui by New York, 
Hollywood and fluropeaii standards. 

"Again, I tried to keep Lynda relaxed. 
I explained thai we'd need more base 
for the photographers, but not a com- 
plete foundali«)n. 

"'^'ou just sit here and cooperate,' I 
told her. 'We're going to do it right this 

"I think she was a little bit concerned 
about what I was going to do. 

" 'We'll have you looking like a Holly- 
wood Jezebel," I told her. 

'"Oh, no. I don't want to look like 
that,' she said. 

"'Why not? You'll be Jezebel John- 
son. It'll be just great.' 

"Well, it went like that. A little teas- 

out fear of spoiling the makeup as I go. 

"On Academy Awards night I used a 
moisturizer to make her skin glow a 
little more. I also paid special attention 
to the little movements in her face. 
Where the muscles bring the skin in, I 
lighten it. Where the muscles go out a 
bit, I darken it. 

"I do not believe in a solid founda- 
tion or base. It's like painting. An artist 
doesn't start a canvas with a solid color 
base. So I used a bit of foundation to 

corners of the eyes with a light base and 
by not putting any mascara on the last 
four lashes of each eye. By stop|)ii\^ the 
liner and mascara on those last lashes 
you open the eyes and give them a wider 

"I chose a light-orange lipstick to 
match her gown. It was quite pale, noth- 
ing bright or flashy. I used a little darker 
orange around the edges of her lips, and 
followed the lines of her mouth with a 
speck over the lip line here and there. 

"The rouge color is 
actually identified as 
CTTV. I don't know 
what that stands for. 
But it is a pinkish tone 
that blends well with her 
skin. I have about forty 
different cosmetics, and 
I choose the ones I 
think go best with each 
client. I never work them 
in regular combinations. 

"I told Lynda to keep 
the makeup fresh and, 
to prevent any possibil- 
ity of caking, just to 
touch her fingertips to 
the fine lines under her 
eyes during the evening; 
that would keep it moist 
and smooth. 

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ing. A little fun. I didn't want her to get 
serious. She knew I was going farther 
with her makeup than I had before. We 
both realized it was an important event 
in her life. I wanted her to look really 
killing. Not dramatic or over-made-up 
or glamorous. I wanted her to have a 
cla.ssic look. I realized, too, that I'd won 
her confidence iti the two previous ses- 
sions, so we both fell good about it. 

"I put her hair up in abciut sixteen 
curlers, and put her under the dryer be- 
fore I started the makeup. When I apply 
makeup, I always start with the eyes 
anrl work down ho I can rest my hands on 
t he lower |)art of the face as I work, wilh- 

darken or lighten the highlights, and 
here and there just a touch of rouge. 
And this way, when I'm through, it 
doesn't look as if she had a drop of 
foundation on her face. I apply the base 
with brushes, never a sponge. 

"I arched the eyebrows a little more 
than the first two times, realizing all the 
actresses would be there and would 
overdo their eyes. I knew Lynda would 
look wonderful by contrast. 

"I u.sed a mediurii-brown eye shadow, 
a (lark-brown liner and black mascara, 
but only on the upper lashes. 

"To make Lynda's eyes look bigger 
and wider, I blocked out the outside 

er hair again was 
full-bodied, simple, loose 
and had the look of an 
Eastern college girl hair 
style. I teased her hair 
just a little bit on the 
front, back and sides to 
give it fullness and 
body. And I used a little 
lotion — a setting lo- 
tion—to add body. 

"Hair should never be 
so outstanding that it 
takes away from the 
overall appearance of a 
girl. It should never 
overpower a girl's face 
or personality. 

"I en* Lynda's hair 
and shaped it. I cut 
about a half inch on the 
front, an inch from the 
back and maybe three 
quarters of an inch on 
the crown. I cut some 
bangs in front, but I 
didn't like them, and we 
combed them back. 

"The Hamilton house 
is a lovely old place. But 
it is old and the lighting 
isn't very good. I got a 
little weary squinting in 
the bad light and lean- 
ing over a low chair. But 
I was engrossed. 

"I didn't use any pins 
in Lynda's hair and only 
a very little set spray after I combed 
it out. 

"I can't honestly say I was thrilled 
with the finished product. A face is a face 
to me, and I never really get excited 
about my work. But I was pleased that 
she allowed me to do more with her ap- 
pearance and that she wasn't upset by 
what little I did do. 

"She was very pleased, although she 
didn't say it. There was a twinkle in her 
eye, and she seemed to realize she looked 

"I'd say there was nn eighty |)ercent 
<iilTerence in Lynda's appearance that 
night from what she looked like before 


! went to work on her. "There are some 
things I would like to do with her. 
might tr>' to put small little false 
amer eyelashes on her the next time. 
•'.Actually, I would love to work on her 
and face another ten times. By the 
^e I was through nobody would recog- 
her as the same girl. The transition 
rould be complete. Without her knowl- 
ige — and as with all wom«i— the con- 
idenoe in herself becomes a part of her 
jnality and she be^ns radiating 
iuty from within." 

for the arrival. It didn't bother MariljTi 
at alL 

"She was the most cooperative and 
the most daring of my clients. She was 
willing to trj- an\thing new and startling. 
I loved her ver>- much." 

Masters also takes credit for Natalie 
Wood's present appearance. She came 
to him with a huge beehive hairdo, com- 
plaining the hair was breaking off. He 
coiffed it flat and straight, enhancing 
her beauty at once. 

When he did Jennifer Jones's hair for 
The Idol in England last year, they met 
at 4:.30 A.M. in her hot^ room, and he 
would do her hair and face. By seven 
o'clock the English studio makeup artist 
and hair stylist arrived, amazed that she 
looked so good. They'd rearrange her 
hair and makeup slightly while George 
hid in a closet. They'd depart, and then 
blasters would do it all over again to 
suit Jennifer. 

"They'd have raised hell and caused 

ith more experi- 
loed clients, the prob- 
lem of radiating from 
ithin may lead to dif- 
ferences of opinion. For 
imple. Masters recalls 
the occasion when Eddie 
"isher asked him to "do 
>mething about Eliza- 
?ih*s hair." 
It was prior to her de- 
>arture for London and 
the start of CUopatra. 
Ilizabeth Taylor wanted 
ler hair (silhouette) 
ide smaller. Masters 
rent to their suite at 
the Beverly Hills Hotel, 
here Miss Taylor 
raited with wet hair 
land dressed in a smock. 

"I told her she should 
I n ear her hair do»-n. She 
insisted on wearing it 
up. We argued back and 
forth — up-down, up- 
jdow-n. I kept repeating 
le would look better 
[with it down. In the end 
I did it her way. .\nd I 
never saw her again. I 
learned from that never 
jto argue with a star. 
I They all know which 
way they think their 
hair kwks best." 

With MariljTi Mon- 
roe there never was any 
argument. The first time 
Masters did her hair was 
three years before her 
death in her suite at 
the Beverly Hills Hotel. 
She turned out to be 
one of only three stars 
who lit«ally gave Mas- 
ters carte blanche. The 
others were Shirley 
MacLaine and Rita 
Ha\-uorth. i 

"Marilyn told me, 
'Do anjthing you want.' 
At the time her hair was 
golden blond and fell to 
her should«^ I didn't 
try to change her hair 
drastically, but went 
along with what she 
thought she wanted," Masters said. 
"Six mc«ths later I had ho- hair per- 
" y white. She called it 'pillow-case 

"And it was cut xery short. I was 
neni ous about cutting it as shon as I 
did, but whoi I was through I xold he-, 
'Maril\Ti, you look absdutdy killing.' 
She liked the expreasicHi, and called it 
the "killer cut' fnmi then on. 

"And m n€v«- forget the time I was 
flying with her from Miami to Mexico 
City on a regular airline flight. Just be- 
fore we arrived we wejt into the plane's 
rest room together — which was ver>' em- 
bamsBuis — so I could comb out her hair 


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Gec'rge's heip. Last [■'■i^-. - r instanee, 
.Audrey Hepburn wante; r.irr. 'o fix her 
hair for the Academy Awards -^--mony. 
Masters was in Florida and c^uMn't get 
to HoUj-wood. .Audrey s ad^iseIS offoed 
to fly her to Palm Beach just to have 
Masters style her hair, but Gecrge 
cotmsded against this hax>ic effort. 

'"It was impossible," he saj-s. '"^y the 
time she got back to Hdly-»-ood it would 
have been ruined." 

Masters is not too welcome at the 
mo%ie studios, a fact that he attributes 
to union rules and profeaacraal jealousy. 

all sorts of croub'.e for us if they'd known 
what we were doing," Masters saj-s. 

Singers present a special problem for 
Masters. He can't abide music at all, es- 
pecially when working. WTienever he 
does Doris Day she hums and sings to 
bosdf, gi%'ing George a bad case of the 
fidgets. "But I lack the nen^e to ask her 
to stop. I have the same problem with 
P(dly Bergen. 

".And, speaking of Doris, I was the 
first one to use the flipped look. I fash- 
icHied her hair straight down at the sides 
and flipped it up on the ends iar oae of 
her mo-.ies. The producer, her husband 
and even Doris were worried about it at 

first. But it began a whole new cycle." 

George usually charges SI 00 for his 
first hair styling on a client, and an addi- 
tional SlOO if he also does the makeup 
stj'ling. However, his popularity vdth 
stars and the verj' wealthy is no sudden 
thing. He's been building his clientele 
for years. "They like me because I un- 
derstand their basic insecurity and sen- 
siti%ity," he saj^. "They know I do what 
is best for their appearance and that 
they can trust me." 

Currently, George is 
in the process of open- 
ing the George Masters 
salon on the 15th stor%' 
of the 90O0 Sunset Build- 
ing. It's a soaring office 
building along the Sun- 
set Strip with a spectac- 
ular \-iew of all of Los 
.Angeles from City Hall 
to the ocean, and George 
expects to have his cli- 
ents absorbed in the pan- 
orama while he works 
on them. 

He is beginning with 
a dozen in help, all of 
whom he will train per- 
sonally, and hopes some- 
day to command a staff 
of 40. 

By Eugene D. Balsley 

T/>e thorns are sharp, 

the stems 
And leaves hare a 

rank smell of 
Earth, and are, 

somehow, as we 
Ought to he. 

Yet Mastere is sur- 
prisingly unpretentious. 
"I'm not glamorous," 
he saj-s. "This is my 
work. And to me it is 
just plain work, even 
though it is with some 
of the most beautiful 
women in the world." 

Wliy does he call on 
customers in a track? 

"I drive it because I 
like it. I think it demon- 
strates to my clients 
that I'm not impressed 
by status symbols or 
wealth of the people I 
work with. It also lets 
my clients know I'm not 
trjing to impress them." 
Nevertheless, George's 
I career has been impres- 
sive indeed. He began 
as a hairdresser at age 15 in New York 
after relatively Little formal education. 
He began at Elizabeth .Arden's and be- 
came a top stj-list by the time he was 
17. Eventually he moved on to Saks 
Fifth -Avenue in Bevwly Hills, because 
he does not like New York. 

In those years he became the darling 
of the Jet Set and Hollj-wood actresses. 
.A partial list of his clients — past 
and present — indudes: Dana W>Titer, 
Mrs. Jack B«iny, Joan Crawford, 
.Arlene Dahl, Sharman Douglas, Irene 
Dunne, Doris Duke, Tanmiy Grimes. 
Zsa Zsa Gabor, Tina Louise, Merle 
Ob0-on,Joan (continued) 


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LYNDA BIRD continued 

Fontaine, Jane Fonda, Norma Shearer, 
Loretta Young, Cyd Charisse, Mrs. 
Winston Guest, Dina Merrill, the Ma- 
harani of Boroda, Lucille Ball, Mrs. 
Henry Ford II, Elizabeth Arden, and 
Julie London. 

Much of his time in recent years has 
been devoted to following the Jet Set 
circuit -St. Moritz, London, Paris, New 
York, Palm Beach and Hollywood. 

"That is the ijattern of cities for the 
most beautiful women in the world," 
says George. "That's how they go; 
around in a circle. You .see the same faces 
at one time of year or other in all of 
those places. I go where my clients go." 

Masters speaks in a low but intense 
voice. He is quite nervous, and likes to 
inject humor into his conversation when- 
ever possible, perhaps to put himself at 
ease. His casual appearance suggests 
that he has just left Cannes and the 
beach to catch a jet liner back to reality. 
OS the job, he drives a Lincoln, but he 
invariably wears dark glasses, even at 

"All women look the same to me," he 
says. "Nor am I interested in their per- 
sonal lives. I ask them about five ques- 
tions when I begin working to determine 
their attitudes, their personalities, their 
likes and dislikes. 

"There's really no need for much con- 
versation. When I see a new client I want 
all makeup completely washed from her 
face and her hair still wet from a sham- 
poo. I don't like to be influenced in 
advance by her own ideas or someone 
else's. I'd rather have the client tell 
me what she wants and how she'd like 
to look. 

"I can tell a great deal from the kind 

lif j 



of shoes she wears and the type of 
she carries— how she smokes a cigarel 
or looks at a magazine. Ther% are hurj 
dreds of little clues from just watching 
new client out of the corner of my ey| 
when she doesn't know she is being 

"I can tell within a few minutes b| 
their actions and attitudes what kind 
women they are— just how insecure tl 
may be, how chic they are. It's an 
stinctive thing with me. I'm wrong 
good many times, but most of the li 
I'm right. 

"My job is to make a person look wel^ 
If a woman wears long hair, I try to dif 
cover what she is trying to hide. 

"All makeup and beauty preparalioi 
used by a woman, no matter how beaui 
ful she may be, are essentially correctivti 
You start with that premise. All womq 
need help, no matter how gorgeous. B 
most of them know exactly what Uiei 
faults are and they come to me for help. 

Masters is fond of ladies who real! 
know their minds. One such client wa 
Marlene Dietrich: "She knew exactl 
what she wanted done, and that's pre 
cisely what I did." His most troublesom 
clients are the ones who give him a fi 
hand — "You do what you like." The 
almost never mean it, and so he pla> 
the diplomat with his little question 
determining what they do want, thereb 
avoiding the shock of what might haj 
pen if he truly gave his imagination fre 

On the other hand. Masters sa; 
never do a woman's hair and fa' ■ 
please other women. It's wrong. I creat 
their hair styles and makeup to pleasi 
men. After all, that is why women try t( 
be beautiful, and in the end it is the mei 
who pay for it all." E N 

'Don't expect too much from one visit." 

you don't like the news, 
ports, or information 

in the CBS Radio Network, 
|ine in just for laughs. 

A funny thing happened a while back— to us and to 
you. We realized you might not always want our 
serious side. So we decided to humor you— with a 
great line-up of funny guys. 

They're some bunch : Arthur Godfrey is a smile 
a minute, even when he sings. Art Linkletter pro- 
vokes big chuckles with short interviews (he talks 
to kids). Garry Moore can make even a weather 
report sound breezy. And Durward Kirby 
is six feet, four inches of tall stories. 

So if you're serious about having fun, 
tune to your CBS Radio station (listed 
below). Just for laughs. 

The CBS Radio Network 




'•.ontirmed. from page 59 

to become a teacher of the handicapped. 
attHids a constant round of extractir- 
ricular lectures, broods ovs- the respon- 
ability of not promoting one of hsc 
pupils — "I can iusc h^r the parents 
say, 'What is he flunking . . . sand- 
box?* ''i. And in the all too common 
anarchy the cliild-centered family, 
the respect of the Hyiand children for 
pa.--c:ai autiuority is ai- 
rr.' St an anachronisn. 
j^aa became a teacher 
oecause her father told 
her he would pay for a 
college educatian only 
if she went for a profes- 
sional degree — "And if 
I had nothing better in 
mind, he suggested 
ceaciiiiig."' To Jan that 
seemed r^sonahle. It is 
dear, then, ttiat she is 
hardly an adventuress 
or even a gentle rebel. 

Indeed, the major re- 
bellion of her life was to 
pull out of the Hyiand 
driveway in the family's 
aging second car, a '56 
Ford bought from her 
dad for $350, no money 
down, 130 a month. It 
was a ciiiLL ilarch morn- 
ing in 1964 when she set 
o ut with ilary Jo and an- 
ther criend,Suzy Schier- 
holtz, in search of — 
it's difficult to pin down 
exactly — adventure, 
chaUmge. maturity; 

"Most of my friends 
were getting married. I 
didn't care for the jobs 
that were available; it 
would have meant living 
at home — my father 
wouldn't permit me to 
live in the parts of down- 
town Chicago that I 
could afford ' What she 
seems to be sajnng, dis- 
■-•reetly, is this: That 
suburbs can be a dead 
end to the collet girl 
who escapes the campus 
without a husband 

J an amply announced 
she was leaving. "My 
father didn't believe I 
was really going till we 
pulled out of the dr-^e- 
way. He kept 
my 'imagina.- 
'r.u.' ' Jan wantea to go 
: -^"izona. "Fd heard 
how warm it is tfa»e, 
and it was ten below 
zero in Chicago Chat week. ' Bur the 
Arizona school systKn couldn't guaran- 
*>>e a job. The trio decide<i "o 'irive 
straight to the West Coast. Jan * in- 
•r.r.i-^a led her to vote for San F-tji- 

srsjme h^rd from Suzy's brother and 
his sociabie chums. 

After that, life was a little Spartan. 
The only people who seemed to care 
about the three Midwestern emigres 
were their eldeiy neighbors. "One old 
lady was always hanging on the porch 
to tell Suzy how Late she got in last 
night,"' says Jan. "And another kept 
asking if we'd been Forest Lawn 
Cemetery yet.'' 

Suzy invited a fourth giri to move in. 

Parti» were "^(fiamii partly 
our faiUt." both girls . •» were 

so dil&niit. We'd luoa ^: . ^.m thai 
leave. We'd osually be aome ay tem. 
We were probably too particular" S-rw 
to bridge tite isuLarion'? "You iwuld ga- 
to barsy" .Jan says. "I kujjw dice girts 
who do, but we just couldn't cfij dian." 

Just Mary Jo was ready to give 
op and go home, an oid ::eaa re-entered 
her life. They became engagwL The 
wedding was set. Jan oegan iparnnen" 

seen m me spot : 
West Coast— aoc - 
Beach cniwd bur > 
t3raes. yjjung isiginess ami 

ivMapniraip v i ^ 

gjris in. 
stripe shii- V 
who :^owed 
"'and yt:i. 
if you H'S 

iet ^ V..U 
-"•.n -mairni- 

■Vcmen neea 5<}% aiare ixott 
nan 3ien. it'j me _ciii the time 
'ou became i .vcnnan unnl you 
are afaout 55. Secause of crai- 
odic Uood ]ass. This is a base 
reason why sa titairy nrars 
• vcmen have iron anirtagE than 
■nsi. One-A-Day* iD mi d) Miii- 
-pie Vitamms Plus Iran every 
dar'/ gives ycu ail tiie iron you. 
need. With ail the vitamins you 
nonnaily nesd. ia take, as wdL 
One---V-Day * Plus Iran, fust 
4ie gius sa auui y wamea oebL 

From the 

day you became ^ ^ 
a woman... 

i. le r«ai!; v 
Che -. r.-- 7 

raimry irtcaei 
"Tau're pa:; 

■•. "But we were *) «• 
■ rue- 

. .-. ..I • ■■' '..4 ir, we 

were deadheai:.' Thar was ^he !a»t 

Tormented by dawn-to-dusk rock-'n'- 
roU music and the traffic tie-up in Che 
baciinjom, -Ian and Mary Jo (ie<.aded to 
strike out on their own, and moved into 
a smashing dat overiooking the oi«an. 

■id 'n-edit, «) sr.' ~mn 
-►far!, on "ime ..ici a 

'1 -Vxmy, 
r 1 ill 

.|^ rjiey a ■ i.idle- 
; . . trunk, l'u-: only 
p«3, two spiiuoiH two kmvea. 
vas grim. They felt tnemseivt-j 
grjwing oiiter: 2n going 'in ']5. Mary J ' 
met few ••iigibLe men at work. Blind 
'lates invariably privefl i .li»aater 

hunting again. In the beach community 
paper, Tfi^ Daily Bnez», she &mnd an 
ad for the S<iuth Bay Qub, not yet <ipea. 
She arrived to preview the model apart- 
menc in tiie middle of a lazzy, souped-up 
prf)mution stagwl by the Nifva«-on- 
Friilay Club, a prifeswnnal party- 
chn)wing corporanun uze»ski 
trips and overseas tou. 'iihs ^".r 

single peopie. The 
people managed ba fill S<iu 
<ia.y9, 'VUte a fira£ in Lam Angeies i 
aparanenc glut. 

All -Ian «w wxis a biibniing beer-bust 
atmuiiphere. There were mure lushing 
young men hovwrog amunil tnun «ie t 

mgSk inifflMTl; 

mcer tnan the 
ntocei miiiem. 
pamta 'juc And it i& 
you iun't mrnrf beng 
aumumfed by a hnn- 
lired or so duuMes :r 
your a^artmsni 

Tn tter ifiiiufniiiil 


ttte-halL WhesEa^E'aQie' : 


^wms^ mRffi^ diffi^ ft**** 

I Bati tihe 


tBan;:IBrtifc C^tefinrit the 

"'le Bae and Fail 
There is x large 
la..: viiiuiia- map uauue 

m iJluHWUig 1 

: Vg*lr^ or i 

Most tuni^uesa are. as 
ranged by ^ue. A few 
mu"mg m — <m Memurai 
'.'uuiiiu ~. liiHip, w «he di-' 
n 'jie wniripiiiil. She 


but was able to transfer to nearby 
Shimer College on the basis of an en- 
trance exam. 

Making friends more easily by then, 
Jan was popular enough to be voted a 
Crown Maiden in the Spring Prom all- 
campus election. Prom committee mem- 
bers were shocked to discover she had 
no prom date, and one offered to fix her 
up. Characteristically, she refused. "I 
want a real date or none at all," she 
said. "There were five Crown Maidens 

volley ball and invariably gets konked 
on the head. She lets dates try to teach 
her tennis. She plays fiercely competitive 
bridge, is addicted to Irish coffee, and 
is learning to cook. Her bookshelves 
reflect three current passions: Somerset 
Maugham, the Montessori method of 
teaching and the art of cooking. The 
meat cookbook was a gift from her 
mother after a recent disaster with an 
English roast. Jan marinated the meat 
in bourbon and soy sauce as recom- 

u i t imagine! after 
wearing I'd never be 
tHMi in a two-piece balh- 
ig suit"). It is also a 
x'hited flowering. "By 
alifornia standards I'm 
■till rather a square, but 
or me all this . . . ." She 
)aused. "You won't be- 
ieve it, but I'm actually 
arning to watusi." Her 
ister Vern says, "Jan is 
ke a caterpillar turned 
nto a butterfly." 
"I guess I matured 
te," Jan admits. As a 
hild, growing up in 
Pittsburgh, "I wasrather 
blah, really." Moving 
o Chicago at 16, when 
ler dad decided to go 
nto business on his own 
a manufacturers' 
epresentative, was dev- 
istating for Jan, already 
hy and withdrawn. "I 
never dated in high 
school. To me Saturday 
nights always meant 
baby-sitting." Jan had begun working 
part time at 12. During vacations and 
after school, she was a sales clerk in a 
smart specialty shop. 

At the University of Illinois, both 
she and sister Vern were "sort of 
adopted" by the boys of Alpha Delta 
Phi fraternity, one school friend re- 
calls. Often they dated the same boys, 
and Jan met a young man she went with 
off and on, mostly off, for five years. 
It's something she prefers not to talk 
about. She does admit, though, that she 
was "over my head" in classes. In fact, 
she was on suspension for failing grades 
by the middle of her sophomore year. 

Which is better for your dog? 

\ / 

20% SUGAR! 

Products like this may 
contain up to 20% sugar (sucrose) 
added as a preservative. 

And a can of Friskies contains 2070 
more protein than two patties of 
the leading sugar-preserved dog 
food. In fact all the protein, carbo- 
hydrates, vitamins and minerals a 
dog is known to need. So feed your 
dog Friskies. It's the fully nourish- 
ing canned dog food that has no 
sugar preservative. From a world 
leader in nutrition (^nation 


Dog food i 


Friskies adds absolutely 
no sugar— because it needs 
no preservative. 

It's not that Jan is fickle. It's rather 
that she runs from involvement. Her 
enthusiasm for young men of solid 
character — bright, funny, well-rounded, 
clean cut are some favorite adjectives — 
tends to cool the minute a man starts 
talking about marriage. "I'm not at all 
against marriage," she insists. "I'm just 
not ready." Too much a realist to accept 
love at first sight, Jan is convinced the 
young man she fell for recently and who 
then proposed after six dates "must 
really be terribly lonely." 

Tim, an accountant 
who works nights on his 
doctorate degree and 
moonlights weekends as 
a free-lance tax con- 
sultant, seems exactly 
the kind of man Jan 
hopes to marry. "And 
he's fun to be with— in- 
terested in everything. 
He doesn't yawn when 
I talk about childhood 
education. We enjoy the 
same things— sitting in 
the sun, playing bridge 
by the pool. He teases 
me for being so hope- 
lessly unathletic. He 
cooks fantastic din- 
ners—beef stroganoff 
and carbonnade — and we 
can sit for hours just 
laughing and then talk- 
ing very seriously 
about ... oh, anything. 
But he's really ready to 
marry. And he's only 
twenty-six." At the first 
sign of Tim's possessive- 
ness, Jan had already 
begun to back away. "I 
don't want to be that 
serious," Jan says. 


and one empty seat," she recalls. 
"That's how it was for me in college." 
Later she transferred to Central Illinois 
College to take education courses and 
earn a teaching certificate. 

WTien Vern married, and then room- 
mate Mary Jo, Jan insists she felt no 
panic— "Only relief that it wasn't me. 
With such a late start, I have too much 
catching up to do. Marriage. Of course, 
it's on everyone's mind, even though 
we may not talk about it. But I don't 
feel the pressiu-e that some girls start to 
feel at the age of twelve." 

Now, Jan is just learning how to 
enjoy being single. She turns out for 

mended by one of her teaching col- 
leagues, then tucked it into the oven 
early in the afternoon of a very special 
evening "because I remembered my 
mother telling me the longer you cook a 
roast, the tenderer it gets." Her date 
took one bite and, ordinarily diplo- 
matic, said flatly: "This meat has just 
taken my appetite away." Now Jan 
sticks to pork chops baked in consomme. 
"If you keep them wet, they don't dry 
out." Fortunately, several of the men 
in Jan's life fancy themselves gourmet 
chefs. Left on her own, she prefers a 
taco and a Coke for lunch and frozen 
chicken pies for dinner. 

onically, the one 
young man who cur- 
rently appeals most to 
Jan is as elusive and 
unready to commit him- 
self as she. Thirty-one, 
in his last year of train- 
ing in forensic medicine, 
he spends every free 
moment making up for 
fun neglected during a 
decade of study. He 
skis, boats, sky-dives, 
spent his last vacation 
with a crew of anthro- 
pologists in Mexico, and 
often calls for a date at 
the last minute because 
he is never sure just 
when he will be free. "I 
guess both of vis are 
making up now for lost 
time," Jan says. 

Teaching is the one 
great commitment Jan 
does not shy away from. It is only with 
her 44 kindergartners that she is able 
to shed her precise, formal, studiedly 
grown-up ways. "I'm much freer with 
children," she admits. "I don't lack self- 
confidence. I can act as silly as they do." 
She tells about the handicapped young- 
ster who complained to her regular 
teacher after a day in Janet's care: "I 
don't want to go back to Miss Hyland's 
class. She's not grown-up. She sits on 
the floor." And she glows at the veteran 
teacher's encouraging report on one 
boy's new and dramatic progress. It has 
her thinking of specializing in education 
of the handicapped. {Continued) 



For many girls, teaching is a compro- 
mise, an interim pause between campus 
and suburbia. Not to Jan. "I expect to 
teach for forty years," she says. "Of 
course, if I have children, I'll take time 
oflf till they're old enough for school, but 
I'm serious about my work and I lose 
interest in a man who talks about his 
job as if they're hours to kill." 

Lately, Jan has been holding onto 
pennies more tightly than usual to build 
a reserve for this summer's charter flight 
to Europe. "I'll borrow about $500 from 
my credit union," she says, "but my 
parents approve because they think kids 
should do as much as they can before 
they settle down." Jan's only extrava- 
gances are shoes and colorful under- 
things. Almost everj'thing in her apart- 
ment that is her own was obtained with 
trading stamps. Recently she even be- 
gan to take in washing. "Yes, it's true," 
she says, "I iron shirts for a fellow down 
the hall. Eight a week at a quarter each. 

Janet Hyland's Budget 

Gross salary (paid monthly 

for 10 months) $5,850.00 

Monthly deductions 

Savings (automatically into 

credit union) 55.00 

Health insurance 12.26 

Retirement fund 37.97 

Income taxes 81.90 

Total deductions 187.13 
Monthly take-home pay 

(for 10 months) 397.87 

Monthly expenses 

Apartment rent 120.00 

Electricity 9.00 

Telephone 15.00 

Life insurance 1 4 . 62 

Car.e.xpenses 8.50 

Beauty parloi 8.00 

Food (including school 

lunches— 35c a day) 30.00 

Medical care 15.00 

Dry cleaning 10.00 

Clothing 45.00 

Incidentals (includes 

newspapers, occasional 

dinners out, gifts, etc.) .... 75.00 

Total 350.12 

Annual expenses 

Car insurance 100.00 

Professional dues 40.00 

Total 140.00 

Jan balanced her budget last year with 
a nursery-school job during the summer 
months, by earning money doing odd 
jobs for tenants in her apartment house. 

And for $25 a month I clean the apart- 
ment of a boy I date and do his laun- 
dry." She almost lost the laundry con- 
cession when she threw a pair of his 
favorite wool ski socks into the machine 
and they shrank to bootie size. "There 
are probably better ways to make 
money," she admits. "Maybe next year 
I'll start tutoring." 

What protects Jan in situations that 
might bring disaster to other girls is 
her unfailing aura of innocence. When 
Janet Hyland goes to a man's apartment 
for a nightcap, that's what she gets. As 
one of the club's more notorious wolves 
remarked: "Jan has a sort of helpless 
and feminine quality. It makes you feel 
more protective than you meant to be." 

"A nice girl like you . . ." is a phrase 
Jan has heard more times than she can 
count. She protests. "I'm not all that 
nice. I have a terrible temper. When I'm 
angry, I'm not the least bit polite." And 
when her friends on the faculty at 
.school, who've read about the swinging 
times at South Bay, tease her about 
living in "Sin City," she smiles. 

"Oh, it'.s even worse than you imag- 
ine," she assures them. "Let me tell 
you about the Roman orgies." end 


Very much to the fore amongst the mod 
moderns is vermouth. In Soho, Chelsea, 
and Montparnasse, not to mention 
Larchmont and Fisherman's Wharf, 
they are sipping it plain and pale, on the 
rocks or with sparkling water, with or 
without a long sliver of peel— green lime, 
lemon, orange. Or cucumber is fab. 

You must know that the "birds"— 
which is British for "girls"— are sloshing 
the stuff into their cooking. Of course, 
it's teddibly, teddibly In these days to 
make a thing of cooking. And when 
every recipe calls for dry white wine, in 
pours the vermouth. Which is quite sen- 
sible, of course, considering that ver- 
mouth is a dry white wine. Plus an ex- 
traordinary collection of herbs and 
spices, plus a lacing of brandy. A com- 
bination that never did any dish any 
harm! As soon as the bottle is opened, 
vermouth begins to lose some of its 
subtlety. Left at room temperature, it 
must eventually turn sour and harsh. 
So always keep it in the refrigerator. In 
any case, it tastes best when chilled. 

We are not, of course, ignoring the 
fact that most dry vermouths— by far 
the most popular types — were designed 
by their creators to go into the mixing 
of martinis. Gradually, over the years, 
this role has diminished, at least from 
the point of view of quantities. At one 
point the martini was vermouth, all 
vermouth and nothing but. Still is, you 
may find to your amazement, when you 
order it in many parts of Europe. Then 
it went from all to a half, a third; four, 
five, nine to one. Finally the atomizer 
or "just a wave of the cork." 

The pendulum has swung again. Ver- 
mouth and its sisterly aperitif wines are 
back big in the picture. Like cocktails, 
such wines, including vermouth, are 
served before lunch or dinner, ostensibly 
to stimulate the appetite. There is a dif- 
ference, our favorite wine man says, 
between aperitifs and cocktails. "The 
aperitif is a wily, gentle seducer. The 
cocktail is whang and to the point." 

Bellwether amongst aperitifs is ver- 
mouth, generally flavored with a touch 
of wormwood, from which the word 
"vermouth" was derived. Often as many 
as 40 or 50 different herbs are used. Some 
of them have the sing of poetry, like 
forget-me-not and blessed thistle. Some 
sound as if they came straight out of 
medieval botanical books— calamus, 
starwort and centaury, elder and gen- 
tian, yarrow and angelica, currant leaves 
and poplar buds. 


In many of the older wine books, 
you'll find references to Italian ver- 
mouth, which is presumed to be sweet, 
and to French vermouth, Hup|)osi'(l to 
be dry and incliiu'd to bitterness. Times 

have changed. All the great vermouth 
houses, whether in France or Italy or 
the United States, now make both dry 
and sweet vermouths. Dry vermouth is 
generally made from white wine, and 
sweet vermouth often uses a red wine, 
like muscatel. But there are exceptions. 

Aperitif wines make a vast topic. All, 
in a sense, are alike. They are wines plus 
spirit and spice, and herb-infused. Yet 
each is different, depending on the wine 
that is used, the spirit, the herbs, and 
how they are infused. The only positive 
way to uncover your favorite is to taste 

Most of the great names are imported. 
But the Americans should not be ig- 
nored. Confession: A few years ago, I 
took a wide swing around Europe and 
into Morocco to learn about vermouths. 
Only to discover that one of the world's 
largest, the Tribuno plant in New York 
City, was a few blocks away ! 

Cora, a famous Italian house, now 
makes a vermouth bianco, a semisweet 
white vermouth, especially designed for 
drinking straight, on the rocks, or as a 
highball with soda. 

Lillet is a lovely, and there are some 
old-line martini fanciers who would 
never be without it. 

Noilly Prat is the prototype and some 
say the paragon of all dry French ver- 
mouths. They also make an excellent 
sweet vermouth. 

Martini and Rossi, the original mod- 
ern vermouth, and probably still the 
best known all over the world, has not 
only a dry and a sweet, but also a 
medium dry for sipping purposes. 

The great and glorious house of 
Cinzano has red, white and Cin (an 
in-between, semisweet). 

Boissiere, one of the oldest and finest 
of French houses, proffers to the Amer- 
ican market not only Vermouth de 
Chambery, palest of greens, with a scent 
of saplings but also a spicy, amber sweet 
vermouth. And newest of all : pink Fram- 
bery, infused with the flavor and fra- 
grance of wild strawberries. 

Dubonnet is in a class by itself— 
herbal aperitif wines of enormous dis- 
tinction and distinctiveness, white and 
red. Both are gracious mixers; fine 
alone, too. Red Dubonnet is madly de- 
licious with fresh fruits and berries. 

New on the scene, Bombay vermouth, 
the first to be paired with its own desert- 
dry and diamond-white Bombay gin. In 
this case, the Bombay vermouth is made 
in France to complement the English 
gin. It is a wily marriage. Yet each does 
very well on its own, thank you. 

Buton, which hails from Bologna, has 
been called the Sophia Loren of ver- 
mouths, perhaps because it comes in 
shapely, almost hourglass bottles. Both 
red and extra dry— spicy with a fra- 
grance like a kitchen at Christmastime. 

Positano is fabulous, woodsy, dark. 
One of our tasters says, "It's like damp, 
mossy shadows, and, label notwith- 
standing, it is not too dry." 

Campari must not be forgotten. It is 
the classic among the gentle, bitter 
wines with a bouquet of subtle flavors 

Amongst the popular aperitifs is 
Byrrh, pronounced beer (isn't it con- 
fusing'.'), usually on the rocks but also 
served with soda and ice, which makes it 
foamy, "So that you have a little pink 
cldud to sip." 

Carpano makes us think of Noel Cow- 
ard bittersweet, subtle nostalgia. Not 
(|uite so bitter as its companion, culled 
I'unt e Mes. I'OPPY CANNON 


Here is a handy listing of recip» 
ing in this issue, including thos> 
Journal kitchens and advert 


Devilish Bouchees, page 86. 
Red Beet Eggs, page 86. 


Bullseyes, page 82. 
Freeforms, page 82. 
Pinwheels, page 82. 


Almond Dessert, page 88. 
Apricot Tart Bordelaise, page 8; 
Bananas with Rum, page 88. 
Bonibes, page 89. 
Charlotte Russe, page 90. 
Danish Apple Cake, page 82. 
Double Strawberry Parfait, pagi 
Dragon Boat Pudding, page 86 
Frozen Lemons of the Forum, p 
Fruit Glazed Pie, page 39. 
Fruit, Poached, page 86. 
Lemon Freeze, page 47. 
Margherites, page 82. 
Revolutionary Fruit Ice Cream 
Roman Punch, page 90. 
Russian Meringue Cake, page 8 
Sherbet, Instant, page 90. 
Sorbet au Liqueur, page 90. 
Spumoni Mold, page 41. 
Tortes, page 82. 
Watermelon, The Great Fake, ] 
Watermelon, Another Fake, pa: 


Boddian Sole, pg 85. 
Boeuf and Oeuf plant, page 85. 
Clam Stew, page 86. 
Drunken Turtledoves, page 87. 
Eggs Mousseline, page 23. 
Kabobs with Butter Barbecue Sj|c 

page 33. 
La Buona Lin^uine, page 93. 
La Dolce Ziti, page 92. 
La Robusta Rotini, page 92. 
Meat Loaf with Prunes and Apr! 

page 88. 
Parson's Ham, page 85. 
Quiche of (thicken Livers, page 1 


Apricot Pork Chops, page 85. 
California Tacos, page 86. 
Corned Beef with English mustar 
Forfur Bridies, page 84. 
Horseradish Brisket, page 84. 
Hot and Hearty Hamcheezers, r 
Lamb Chops and Lamb Steaks, 
Legs Ahead, page 86. 
Marinated Beef, with Sherry an' 

Sauce, page 8. 
Oscar Hammerstein Chicken, pa 
Quail with Blueberries, page 86. 


Ahuskan King Crab Salad, page ' 

Cortes' Shrimp, page 88. 

Tuna and Artichoke Salad, pafe 


.■\v<H-ado Soup, page 87. 

Little Spinach CVowns, page 88. 
Mushrooms, Me.xican, page 87. 
Rice and Artichoke Heart.s, pifl 





AUGUST 1966 


ut Her Million-Dollar Talk it^Mjt Life Without 
•y...& Models Her $190 Father.. >: Pat's Parents Tell: 
ternity Wardrobe HowTo Be a White House in-law 

The Best Months To Have 
a Baby... & What Your 
Doctor Should Tell You 
About Your Newborn 

a- VI r*^ n^eTnki CTDAkl/>l CD- Ti-Am fhA P/%i-f hrnmingr Rnok 

invites you to choose from the 
200 hit albums in stereo or regular on 
this and the followirig pages 




No postage stamp necessary if mailed in the United States 

Posfoge will be paid by— 


906 13 




No stamp or envelope needed. > 
Just cut along dotted line, fill out 
other side, fold as indicated and mail. 


Permit No. 23878 
Hollywood, Calif. 







Jealous Heart 



Slaughter on Te^;?i 
4*enue ■ li s 3 Voit 
Unasu3i 031 





A Spanish 

ClLssicai &atar 



S.etHua y "J* 

your "savins^ in advance"from thf 



Fcol s Paradise 1^ 
Wild Coiorada 



TTT ,- - Paradise 

904-76 902-15 





(or a 

One Morel 

alt I 



Dance, I 
yi Dance 



SameOmi) Dsi Is Tali 
'"I My Place 

A New Song for 
0^ Young Love 




Of Mi 


Stai But to China 

This Is 



Retttm To 
Me Voiate • 
tngel BabT 


»9Cl <rf Ages 
Old SaeKt j Ctcsi * 
My Task 







Blues for 
A Four 
Strifts 6uftar 

No stamp or envelope needed. 
Just cut along dotted line, fill out 
Other side, fold as indicated and mail. 


1 61 20 42 


Hollywood & Vine 
Hollywood. California 90028 

Please accept me as a trial member of the Capitol Record Club and 
send me the seven records which I have listed. Bill me only $L00 
for all seven. I've also indicated my first purchase for which you 
will bill me $3.98 plus a small shipping charge. Stereo only $L00 
more. I agree to purchase seven more albums of my choice at the 
regular Club price during the next year. My favorite field of music is: 


□ Popular Vocalists _ Country & Western _ Teen 

□ Easy Listening & Dancing □ Classical I] Jazz 

Send me this 
selection as my 
first purchase 

Write number below 

FOR ONLY $1 .00 

Write numbers below 

Send all my records in Q STEREO 





APO and FRO addresses will be sent 
Canadian orders shipped from Canada. 


nformation on special plan. 



1 FILL OUT -! S 





"•H IF Y iU PREFEP. yoi' may malt thia form In your own 
•t,» "Wpa' •nvalopa »o CAPITOL RECORD CLUB, MOLLV- 





IN ^ 
I mi \^ 



Peggy Lee 

Big Spender 

JlrifliL OKjj. ( 
Tiu Win ' It's A L 
Wgimertul i 


■ittca. Fuuii 

n< StXn Of Tw 

904 58 



[Roy Clar ke 

The Tip oi 
My Fingers 
Silver Threads & 
Golden Needles 
Hell Have Ta Go 



Sesame Kactm. T^e 
Siri Fras ipaciema. 





New WorlO 




^ "karris 









STORY ^idosKl 






^ THE 


arifiinl SonArxt 


M immo 

I tow you mere 
ond rnore every 


*aill|3rM«03 I \ 



BUD s 


iirt Tun 
TjtT Tuffl' 
£•1 8t 





900 82 



THE 8i8ii ruLS «E sail 

Ilf)ita«rin5 ^ 

9 mm 

^ SOIfD 



SIR th]hi:I 



kiM. HiiforqetUihle 

(OLE ^ 


my M«r 



10 MOftt. 


On| the Rim' 
SeuAdUick ISIf _ 



POOH unit lotm 



"'TS ^.^"^^ 
Feriy t- - > 
Cross Th| 



MY PLACE » V- 1 


Hush Hush Sweef^^ 
Clurlotle (ci 


^ BRASS \ 

for animals 

BAND paiuitf 

' ' Mj^ic Dragon) 





From the 200 stereo or regular 
records on these 3 pages 
invites you to ■ 


16 59 





TrUt'dJif 1 Goifl 
III Ton 



for ^ 
only T 


\ aASIE 


Tee I^B 

if you buy |ust one record now and agree to purchase sever 
during the next year from more than 300 a month to be c 




■W HfllM 

i rw uviNC ^ 

903 85 902 84 


TIHE m _ 


A Lettermen 
Kind of Love 

mi «WDU 

or TOO 

10 OKUS 




I L i;'* Soan^sh 
bwn CoTon fielfli 



■iCH«na ^ 
MM* K? 


Something • * 


WetUTi 1 

Mist) East 01 

liRlni ^ 
In lirt Im 






. ' LEE 

\" Pass 


Start enjoying all these BENEFITS OF MEMBERSHIP 

- SEVEN RECORDS FOR ONLY $1.00 if you buy just 
one record now and agree to purchase seven more at 
the regular Club price during the next year from over 
300 a month to be offered. 

FREE MONTHLY COPY of "Keynotes," the r.vb 
magazine, describing the forthcoming se'f' 
your favorite field of music plus a wide . i' • 
outstanding records in all fields. 

field of music if you prefer it to the 
Otherwise the Club selection is auton-.. . 
(unless you want no record at all that iT,ontn>. 

THE RIGHT TO REFUSE to take any record at all 
in a given month, simply by returning the form a 
ways provided. All your trial membership calls for is 
purchase of just seven more records over the next 


MEMBER'S CREDIT CARD ent'tiing you to charge 
3': pi-rchases. For each album you buy. you will be 
; - i the Club price of $3.98 or $4.98 (occasional 
> r 31 albums somewhat higher) plus a small ship- 
ping charge. Stereo records are only $1.00 more, 
but en oil as a stereo member only if you own a 
sterec phonograph or a stereo cartridge. 








Eyes fatigued 
from driving? 

Take a moment 

...refresli and 
soothe your eyes 

How fast Murine goes to work! 
It instantly soothes and comforts 
your eyes. Made to blend 
perfectly with natural eye fluids, 
Murine is so gentle /ou can 
use it whenever your eyes 
feel discomfort from reading. 
TV, smoke, dust, sleep and 
other causes. • 
Millions do IJ— 

bo*"*. Also 

bo*' dropp«r. 



■ . Imr.. Chlrmtm VJ.A. TnJ^mmk, lUf. V H. Of 

When cats get in trouble in New 

York City, their best friend is a nor- 
mally unobtrusive little organiza- 
tion called the Save-A-Cat League. 
But when cats' rights are being vio- 
lated, the league can be as outspoken 
and persistent as a hungry- kitten. 
This happened recently when a 
member discovered that stray cats 
in Central Park were being trapped 
by the Parks Department, after com- 
plaints were filed by bird watchers 
and other non-cat people. 

After some angr\- accusations — 
all aired in New York's newspa- 
pers — and a meeting between the 
league president. Mrs. Judith Sco- 
field. and Parks Commissioner 
Thomas Hoving. truce was declared. 
The treaty states that the next time 
there are protests against cats in the 
park, the problem will be discussed 
with the league before any cats are 

Mrs. Scofield started the Save-A- 
Cat League nine years ago. Its ev- 
er\-day function is to act as a sort of 
adoption agency for homeless, dis- 
placed cats in the city. There are 
several hundred volunteer members 
who comb construction sites and 
dark streets, take in indigent cats 
and tr>- to find homes for them. Also, 
there are about 2,500 contributors 
who give money but do not house 
strays. So far. the league has placed 
about 9.000 cats. Mrs. Scofield says 
that some members have fed up to 
100 cats at a time, waiting for the 
right parents to come along. And 
some volunteers, fearing uns>Tnpa- 
thetic landlords, have to keep their 
membership secret. 

The league's noted sponsors in- 
clude Cleveland Amor>', Orson 
Bean. Paul Gallico. Gypsy Rose 
Lee. Basil Rathbone. Phil Rizzuto 
and Gwen Verdon. Miss Verdon. 
now playing the title role in the 
Broadway hit. Sweet Charity (in 
which she often manages to twist, 
leap, and slink around — something 
like a cat), had been practicing 
charity long before the show opened. 
She openly admits to being a "mem- 
ber of an underground movement to 
save animals." She says. "'I've been 
collecting stray animals since I was 
five years old, or what I thought 
were strays — squirrels, chipmunks, 
blue jays, snakes. When I was doing 
Damn Yankees. I found two three- 
week-old white kittens and took 
them to the theater with me every 
night. One was deaf and the other 
had eye trouble. I literally wore 
them for three weeks to keep them 
warm and in motion. I finally had to 
get rid of them because they kept 
trying to jump out of my third-floor 
window. I auctioned them off along 
with an old Victorian birdcage, 
made S500 and gave the money to 
the Animal Shelter." Miss Verdon 
doesn't have a menagerie with her 
backstage at Sweet Charily, but she 
adds. "Charity is sort of a stray cat 

Mrs. Scofield says, "we call our- 
selves an integrated, nonsectarian 
grf;up. We like all animals and take 
members who do, too." The Save- 
A-Cat League even has a "canine 
auxiliary group" that places home- 
less df>gs. The league's future proj- 
ects include the crjnstruclion of 
urban havens for cats outdrxjr 
shelters where the animals can romp 


free from fear of annoyed parkgoers 
and stuffy landlords. 

There is a Cat Protection League in 

London, too. They take homeless 
cats from the city's building sites 
and relocate them in the countn-. 
But the league's spokesman doesn't 
think this is the ideal solution. "The 
cats don't like it so well," he says. 
"They're city- bred cats, after all." 

Officially, these are "dog days" (July 
to September), and if it's too hot for 
yoi4. you can now walk your dog 
without having to walk yourself. 
Household Products Ltd., in Lon- 
don, is selling a canine exercising 
machine. It consists of an elec- 
trically controlled strip of carpet on 
rollers. You just sit and watch, while 
the dog runs up and down on the 
moving carpet. 

On August 23, Dutton will publish 

the third wirming book in its S7,500 
Animal Book Award contest — The 
Whooping Crane: The Bird That 
Defies Extinction by Faith McXulty 
A few years ago. Miss McXulty 
says, she "didn't even know what a 
whooping crane looked like." She 
just noticed a small item in a news- 
paper reporting that 44 whooping 
cranes had returned to Texas that 
year. So she went to Texas to find 
out what they looked like and why 
anyone bothered to count them. 

The Whooping Crane is a year-by- 
year, egg-by-egg account of the 
amazing struggle of this nearly ex- 
tinct bird to surive — and the incred- 
ible efforts of naturalists to keep the 
species alive. The foremost human 
hero of the book is Robert Porter 
Allen, who was research director of 
the National Audubon Society. 
In his efforts to protect the 
wild cranes he followed them from 
their winter headquarters in Texas 
all the way to their secret summer 
lair in the Canadian woods. Allen 
and his co-workers spent years try- 
ing to protect the crane from hurri- 
canes, hunters, the U.S. Air Force 
and well-meaning museum directors. 
The result: there now are those 44 
wild whooping cranes; there were 
14 when the Save-the- Whoppers 
campaign started in 1938. 

Along with the adventurous 
chronicle of the wild bird, there is a 
dramatic account of the cranes in 
captivity— now seven of them. All 
the birds seem to have individual 
personalities, which lends some sus- 
pense to their daily misfortunes, 
matings and egg hatchings. (Whoop- 
ing cranes are monogamous. They 
dance, and they whrxjp for joy to at- 
tract mates and frighten enemies.) 
Jf>8ephine. "Dowager Queen of 

Cranes," who died in the New'Or- 
leans zoo in 1%5, is the avian 
heroine of the tale. Josephine laid 52 
eggs during 16 years of her captiv- 
ity; 12 eggs were hatched, and four 
chicks lived to maturity. Odds like 
those add excitement to this surpris- 
ing tale, which will fascinate readers 
who, like Miss McXulty, had never 
seen a whooping crane. 

The Pyrenean Mountain Dog Club of 

Great Britain has begun a campaign 
to increase the popularity of the 
breed. According to the club, the 
Great P\Tenees has never had the 
popularity or prestige that its in- 
telligence, affable habits and per- 
sonality entitle it to. (The breed 
dates back to the Bronze Age, be- 
came a trustworthy guardian of 
sheep, and for a while served in the 
royal courts of France.) The first 
step in the campaign is to convince 
potential owners that the dog, de- 
spite its size 1 100 pounds or more ) , 
is a moderate eater and doesn't rim 
up large food bills. It has other at- 
tractions as well. Dr. Michael 
James, president of the club, says 
his wife uses their P\Tenees' hair to 
stuff pillows, and is saving a big pile 
of it so she can knit a sweater. 

Queen Elizabeth has appointed an 

Official Bird Watcher: Stanley 
Cramp, vice president of the Lon- 
don Xatural History- Society. His 
official duties consist of getting up 
early at least once ever>' two weeks 
to compile an up-to-date list of the 
bird species on Buckingham Palace 
grounds. Mr. Cramp reports: "There 
are nearly 300 birds per acre at 
Buckingham Palace. I've seen war- 
blers and rare little grebes. In fact, 
no nightingale sings in Berkeley 
Square, but nightingales nest and 
breed in the Palace gardens," 

Puzzle: What has eight sides, 32 
heads and 500 pieces? Answer: A 
puzzle, a new octagonal jigsaw puz- 
zle by Springbok, called Dog Por- 
traits. The back of the box has a key 
to each of the 32 breeds with text 
that explains the important charac- 
teristics of each dog. There's one for 
cats, too — Cat Show Panorama — 
with 18 distinct breeds of cats, and 
text that explains things like what 
makes an Abyssinian an Abys- 
sinian. Some odd traits of the cats 
are mentioned, too. For example: 
Did you know that blue-eyed white 
Persian cats are often deaf? 


lUimne liuunii in y-..;, i^ad- uom 
Ahlene Fitch of Elmwood, Nebr. 


can't tell you what's bothering 
ISut, if he has a dull coat and dry, 

skin— or if he scratches when 
as no fleas— he may be suffering 

diet deficiencies that can lead 
ore serious problenns. NewPet'm* 
land Skin Daily Food Supplement 

make up what may be lacking, 

in canned and packaged foods. 

Vital polyunsaturated fatty acids and 
vitamins. Things pets need every day 
for bright, glowing coats and healthy 
skin. Just squirt it on your pet's food. 
It's that easy. Dogs like the flavor. Cats, 
too. So give your pet a chance at the 
coat and skin he could be showing. 
Start him on new Pet'm Coat and 
Skin Daily Food Supplement now. He'll 

look better and feel better in just thirty 
days. Or your money back. Just mail 
us the empty bottle. If new Pet'm 
Coat and Skin Supplement doesn't 
help, the problem may not be diet 
deficiencies and your veterinarian 
should be consulted. 

If you love your pet, Pet'm. Now at 
your drugstore. 

•Pet'm is a Trademarit 

MAy Be suFFERiNq From soiviETHiNq 


Soft— because no margarine hardened into a stick can be as 
low in saturated fat. Soft— to taste like the expensive spread. 

Think about it. To harden a margarine 
into a stick, they actually have to add extra 
amounts of saturated fat, more saturated 
fat than Chiffon.^ 

But we make Chiffon soft — with pure 
liquid safflower oil — to leave out this extra 

saturated fat. Because Chiffon Margarine 
is never hardened into a stick, it is the low- 
est in saturated fat of any spread. Even the 
corn oil ones. 

And wait till you taste new Chiffon! 
Because it's soft, it releases flavor faster — 

delicious, melting flavor. This margarine 
really does taste like "the expensive spread. ' ' 
New Chiffon Margarine — lowest in sat- 
urated fat of all spreads. And it tastes deli- 
cious — like "the expensive spread." Go 
ahead. Dip into a tub. 

Anderson, Clayton &. Co. 

"The American McriUKC Cookbook", reading lop lo 
n: An 184() apple parini; par(yiwas more social than 
ry • Slove and dress styles chanKC, but the lure of 
food remains • Number one eater Diamond Jim Brady 
ularly admired Lillian Russell; for a woman, she ale 
well • A century ago, aerated bread was thought lo 
e weightlessness - or so the jokesiers said. 
(2) American Heritage Collection; (3) Brown Brothers; 
Vmerican licriuge C olleclion. 

Try a year of 


for 1/2 price 

-and for just the shipping cost, 
we'll give you our 
illustrated COOKBOOK 
(it retails for $12.50) 

How's your sense of history? Properly tended, it's a valu- 
able asset. It can make for exciting reading, for knowing 
yourself a little bit better, for giving your family a sense 
of place and purpose in a world awry. 

You are aware of the great men and women who have 
built America; you've studied history. But in American 
Hkritace you enjoy it — the whole rousing adventure. 

Our editorial beat is the complete range of the American 
experience: What people said, thought about, fought about. 
What they sang, laughed at, danced to. The laws they 
passed — and the ones they broke. How they lived — their 
elegant mansions and gay cotillions . . . fine glass and fast 
horses . . . low resorts and high adventures. . . . 

Tn -Vmerican Heritage and 
get the "Cookbook" as a gift 
"The American Heritage Cookbook" is really two books 
in oatmjfhe first half is an illustrated history — the story of 
our^Pcestors in terms of what they ate and drank. And why. 
The second half is memorable menus and recipes (more than 
500 of them). With 350 pictures (65 in color) and 640 
pages, the book is well worth its $12.50 retail price. But try 
American Heritage now through this half-price offer, and 
the "Cookbook" is our gift. You pay only the cost of getting 
it to you: 60c 

As a subscriber, every other month you'll receive a new 
112-page American Heritage packed in a sturdy board 
carton. Each issue is made to hold and read and relish. 
Its 8%" X 1114" hard covers enclose about 100 illustra- 
tions, a dozen or more articles. It's attractive fare. See how 
well it fits your mind, how well it lives with your family. 

A one-year subscription through this trial offer is just 
$11.85 — half what the same six magazines would cost at 
their $3.95 single-copy price. Pay in installments if you like. 
The "Cookbook" comes as a gift as soon as you confirm 
your subscription. 

Try it. Today? The offer must end when our supply of 
the "Cookbook'i runs out. And it will. 

American Heritage 
383 W. Center St. 
Marion, Ohio 43301 

Please send me one year of American Heritage at your $11.85, 
half-price rate. [Six issues bought singly, $23.70. Regular subscription. 
$15.] This purchase entitles me to receive the "Cookbook" [retail 
price, $12.50] for just 60<' - the cost of shipping. 

□ Enclosed is $12.45 ($11.85 for my subscription, 60< for shipping 
the "Cookbook"']. Send my gift book now. 

□ Bill me for $12.45. 

□ Bill me in 3 monthly installments: $4.55 the first month, then 
2 installments of $3.95 each. 


(Please print) 






From American Heritage, reading top to bottom: Parisian 
widows give doughboys a send-off to the front, 1918 • At 
70 mph. the Mercer Raceabout could play havoc with 1911 
hairdos • The Gibson Girl conquered no frontiers — but lots 
of hearts • Cannoneer Molly Corbin, wounded in 1776 and 
buried at West Point, was a fast hand with gun rammer or 
rum ration. 

(1) National Archives; (2) Clarence P. Hornung; (3) Old 
LIFE Magazine; (4) West Point Museum. 

Let 'em drip! 
My Proven 
cleans itself 

Don't touch this dirty oven. 

Just set the dials, latch the door. . . P-7 Oven cleans itself electrically. 

The P-7 Oven eliminates the meanest chore in the 

Invented and perfected by General Electric, the 
fabulous P-7 Oven not only cleans i(s(>]f new-clean, 
but floes the job for abotit 7«* per clcaiun^" . Less 
than you'd pay for an old-fashioned oven cleaner. 

No cleansers, no fumes, no scrubbing, no work. 
Period. The same electric elements that cook your 

food also clean the oven far l)ctter than you ever 
could by hand. It even cleans the parts you 
couldn't reacli properly before. 

The elegant Americana " above is 30" wide, 
looks built-in. Comes with or without a unique 
2-way exhaust system. Has P-7 featme plus meat 
thermometer and rotisserie in master oven below. 
There's also a second full oven above. Other range 

Id) •. C 


^^^^^^ OVEN 


The elegant Americana® . ^^^^ 

features include the famous Sensi-Temp® surface j 
unit which guards against sticking, scorching oil 
boiling over. And there's a single-unit grill. | 

"Ba.sed on Florida Power and Lin'il Co. residential rate of 
20 per K.W.II. for electric cooking. 


Remember, the Fj(70\en is made by General Electric. You can replace 
your present range or oven with 5 kinds of C-E ranges including built-ins. 
Many different models. Some are shown on the next page... 

ei)lace your 
( range with 
lew P)(7 Oven 
11 ge now! 

ic is no problem. P-7 Oven ranges many different types, shapes 
/OS. No doubt there's a model 
u will fit the space occupied by 
Uj)rescnt range. 

Mnil- I J. 756 

ustom 30" froo-standiiiK ran^o lias llie 
ms P-7 srlf-cloaning oven with rolis- 
,ml iiu'at tlu'inioiuetcr. Ilaiulsoine rc- 
l cooktop with Sfiisi-Tcmp ' autuiuatic 
nd single-unit grill. 

Model J'486 

"ustoin. P-7 master oven with rotisseric, 
thermometer. Plus a scconil oven, auto- 
c Sensi-Tenip^ surface unit and 2-unit 
Both ovens automatically timed. 

-lel JK-18 

e's a luxurious 27 built-in o\en with the 
self-cleaning feature plus rotisserie and 
,t thermometer. It's the brand-new look 

>Iacing your present built-in with a 
V self-cleaning oven is a snap. There's 
j11 line of P-7 built-in ovens designed 
it both 24 " and 21" enclosures. Instal- 
ion costs are nominal. You can see 
:m at your General Electric dealer's. 



Guess What! 

How I Found Happiness with My Hairdresser 
By Lois Benjamin 

Not too long ago, when I was small 
and naturally wavy, my mother used 
to twine my shiny curls over her fin- 
ger and, while I fidgeted, tell me 
stories about princely young men 
who spent their working hours sooth- 
ing distressed damsels by untangling 
their hair from brambles or thickets. 

I can't remember a single tale 
about a hairdresser who could trans- 
form a frog into a princess, or who 
could spin golden hair out of purest 
straw. Still, like other little girls, I 
grew up believing in hairdressers. I 
even dreamed that someday I'd find 
one and settle down— for longer, for 
shorter, for straighter, for curlier. 

I n a few short years of hairdresser- 
h()|)ping, I all but stopped believing— 
until I met Barron. Oh, I had a few 
whirlwind coiffures —exciting flings 
that made me happy until I caught a 
glimpse of the back in a store window. 
Nothing ever lasted with me— not 
even the glib Frenchman who used 
two gold brushes for the comb-out. 

In spite of all my heartbreaks, I 
went on searching. Somewhere, I 
kept telling myself, there was one 
prince of a hairdresser who would 
wrap me firmly in a luxurious paisley 
dressing gown, whisk me off to a 
shocking-pink vinyl armchair, and 
change my whole entire life. I no 
longer cared hoHBiuch he was going 
to charge m^^Bw trim; I only knew 
that we haC^lb meet, between the 
shampoo section and the dryers, and 
that nothing— certainly not my 
hair— would ever lack luster again. 

Then, one day, I pushed through 
an ordinary lavender and gilt door- 
way, and a superbly coiffed redhead 
with six-inch lashes and eight-inch 
Courreges boots told me to wait. 
Barron would do me. 

Tremblingly, I thumbed through 
four old issues of Photoplay. 

And then, Barron summoned. I 
knew the minute I saw him that he 
wouldn't need gold brushes and that 
he wouldn't ask me to do anything 
my hair would be sorry for later. 
Tenderly, he gathered up my miser- 
able hair and said, "Yes. Of course." 

The shampoo I had that day was 
a simple egg-and-rum affair, with 
a $2 dandruil rinse. To me it was 
heaven in a stainless steel sink. 
Barron and I said very little to each 
other; we didn't have to. ("Whoever 
did your hair last ought to have 
his scissors blunted," he whispered. 
"Yes," I murmured excitedly.) 

he combed me out later, 
and we looked at me together in the 
hand mirror, I felt like Trilby on 
her first date. "I love you," I stam- 
mered. "I don't take tips," he replied. 

All through those first enchanted 
weeks, women stopped me in the 
street to ask me who did my hair. I 
told them all— I was so happy I 
wanted to share my treasure. I talked 
about Barron to every woman I 
knew — even blondes who were hav- 

ing more fun than I was. Recklessly, 
I sent my best friend to him. How 
could I guess that he would set her 
ahead of me while I sat there soaking 
wet on my lunch hour? Was it 
my imagination— or were her bangs 
really straighter and smoother than 
mine? And how come he spent 15 
minutes longer on her comb-out? 

I knew I had to conquer those 
awful doubts. How could we possibly 
go on together if I no longer trusted 
him, if he took me for granted? Or 
maybe (I thought cynically) this is 
the way it always is— maybe no hair- 
dresser can ever be completely happy 
with one head of hair, no matter 
who she is. 

All that week I wrestled with my 
hair. After three days, I'd used up 
two jumbo cans of spray, and my 
bangs were as curled up as Medusa's, 
only tighter. My best friend still 
looked sensational. Five days after 
her set, she dropped in to tearfully 
thank me for bringing her and Bar- 
ron together. I could have pulled 
every bouffant strand out of that 
perfect head. 

.hat was when I made the mistake 
of my life. I broke my weekly date 
with Barron, and went to Marcello. 

Oh, I had been tempted before. 
There were vacations, trips out of 
town, when I had had my hair done 
by strange men. Somehow I never 
felt guilty about those escapades. 
Maybe it wasn't the same as with 
Barron, but, after all, he was miles 
away, doing some other woman's 
hair in my regular appointment time. 

And once I tried to talk Barron 
into giving me a new look— some- 
thing sensational I'd seen in a mag- 
azine. He tried his best, but it was a 
disaster — and I blamed him. That 
night I put my head under the 
shower, and the next day I sneaked 
into another salon and had it done 
over. Another disaster. 

But now, here I was, deliberately 
visiting another man's salon less than 
a block from Barron. I felt strangely 
exhilarated — I'd show him, I thought. 

Well, the excitement wore off when 
the hair-spray mist cleared out of 
my eyes. Marcello had ruined me. 

"How does Madame like it?" he 
was saying. "Oh, Barron," I said, 
trying to stop the tears. I paid the 
$45 and fled down the street. Would 
he take me back? Could it ever be 
the same again? Only my hairdresser 
would know for sure. 

I flung open the lavender door 
and ran to his chair, trembling. We 
looked at each 
other for a long 
moment. And 
then, tenderly, 
he gathered up 
my miserable 
hair and said, 
"Yes. Of course." 

What moi 
could a girl ask? 

hy James Beard 

America's foremost cook-author 

You don't have to travel far or fuss 
a lot to make a picnic irresistible. 
Sea-side, tree-side or car-side, the 
simplest fare can taste like a feast— 
with the landscape for relish. 
Something unexpected always stirs 
a picnicker's spirit. Even as simple 
a thing as wrapping hard-boiled 
eggs in Baggies® and tying with a 
festive bow. Or a new dash in deviled 
eggs: try mixing sardines and 
chopped onions with the yolks. 

Take along a cold country ham. Or 
broiled chicken halves. To me, most 
food tastes better cold— even steak. 
Cold or hot, succulent meat must re- 
tain juiciness for flavor. Use Baggies 
Plastic Bags for storage (both 
before and after cooking). Baggies 
don't just cover meat; they enclose 
every ounce with moisture-proof 
protection other wraps can't give. 
Keep all kinds of meat juicy and 
fresh,.. redder longer. 

Bibb lettuce & cherry tomatoes 

make a rave combination. Toss 'em 
on the picnic spot in a big Baggies 
(Food Wrap or Jumbo size) with 
olive oil, wine vinegar, basil and 
garlic. You'll love these strong bags 
for picnic silver, plates, wet clean- 
up cloths, leftovers. 
Ever notice how good Swiss Gruyere 
and aged Cheddar tastes outdoors? 
Especially with a light Beaujolais. 
Good cooking to you. 


The Literary Guild brings you 
the newest best-seiJers for about half 
what you would pay elsewhere 

As a member, you are always guaranteed savings of at least 40% 
(often as much as 60%) from the prices of the publishers' editions 

THIS RICH SELECTION of books presents 53 strik- 
ing arguments for joining the Literary Guild 
right now. The wide variety of outstanding 
titles expresses quite clearly the Guild's com- 
mitment to offer you — at savings of 40% to 
60% — the most important and most enjoyable 
new books as soon as published. 

In recent months, for example, Guild mem- 
bers were offered Tai-Pan for $2.95 instead of 
$6.95 in the publisher's edition, The Last 100 
Days for $3.50 instead of $8.95, Those Who 
Love for $3.50 instead of $6.95. 

Such tremendous savings on new best-sellers 
like these are made possible because the Guild 
prints its own fine editions on its own presses 
designed especially for large, economical print 
runs. Full-cloth bindings, careful typography 
and colorful jack<;ts make Guild books a proud 
addition to any library. 

The remarkable record of Guild editors in 
securing so many brand-now best-sellers is no 
accident. Working closely with every major 
publisher, keeping up to date on every happen- 
ing in the literary world, they are among the 

first to know of important manuscripts by new 
authors as well as established ones. 

Because Guild selections are chosen months 
before publication, they can be fully described 
to members in the club's free monthly Preview. 
Then the books are shipped to members who 
want them at the same time the publisher's 
edition is released. 

As a Literary Guild member, your only obli- 
gation is to buy four selections or alternates 
during the coming year from among the 20 or 
more which will be offered each month. And 
for every four you buy, you may select a bonus 
book from a special catalog. 

The Literary Guild's huge savings start with 
its generous introductory offer. You are in- 
vited to begin membership by choosing any 
four of the brand-new best-sellers and other 
fine books on these pages - all for only $1, 
plus a small shipping charge. You may, if you 
wish, include the three-volume Hemingway set 
as one of your four introductory choices. 

To join the CJuild, send no money now. Just 
mail the attached postpaid reply card today. 


TRILOGY: Mr. Lincoln's 
Army, Glory Road, Stillness 
at Appomattox, Bruce 
Catton. Pulitzer Prize 
winner's famous history 
about the Civil War. 
3 vols, count as 1 choice. 
(Pub. cds., $12.50) 

John Hersey. New novel 

by the author of Hiro- 
shima and The Wall ex- 
amines today's college 
generation in a modern 
re-telling of the Faust 
legend. (Publisher's 
edition, $4,05) 

118. INTERN, Doctor X 

This brutally frank best- 
selling diary, recorded 
day-by-day by a young 
doctor during his intern- 
ship, is a shoiking and 
scandalous indictment of 
hospitals and patients. 
(Pub. edition, $5 95) 

Jolin KcJis. Uiogiaphy 
of the mystfiious ty({)on 
whose own life as pilot, 
niuvie niaker, industrial- 
ist and airline owner 
Is more colorful than 
his most extravagant 
film, (I'ub edition, ii.Oi) 

Albert Kornfeld. All-in- 
clusive, highly practical 
guide to the beautifully 
harmonious home you've 
always wanted. Lavishly 
illustrated in color. (Pub- 
lisher's edition, $11.95) 

Roderick Thorpe. Bru- 
tal, honest novel of 
a detective who, dur- 
ing a crisis in his own 
marriage, breaks a scan- 
dal that tears apart his 
town and nearly destroys 
him. (Pub. cd,, $5.05) 

1964, Theodore li. While 

Pulit/er Pri/e winner's 
reports on the Kennedy 
and Johnson elections. 
2 vols, count as I choice 
(Pub, editions, $1.1, ofl) 


unlorgclt.ible master- 
pieces by America's 
most beloved humorist, 
brought together for the 
first time. (Publisher's 
edition, $4 95) 

COOKBOOK. Brand-new 
edition of America's 
most famous cookbook. 
More than 3,000 tested J 
recipes provide clear 
directions for simple c 
gourmet cooking. (Put 
lisher's edition, $6.50) 

Reynolds Price. A Norik 

Carolina boy grows up 1 
in three short but joy- 
ous days, in this novel 
by the prize-winning 
author of A Loiix and 
Happy Life. (Pub- 
lisher's edition, $1 05) 

Joyce Stranger. A huntet 
forms a strange alliance 
with a fox during the 
annual hunt, in this nov< 
of rural England. An 
immediate best-seller in 
London. (Publisher's 
edition, $3.05) 

Walker Percy. A young 
southerner with old- 
fashioned ideas of be- 
havior and unusu.1l per- 
sonal habits is the hero 
of this new nt)Vel by tht 
author ol I lie Moi'/i'.itiif 
(Publisher's edition, $5,» 

As your introduction, choose 



of these 53 hest-sellers, 
reference works, even sets 


for I 

if you join the Guild now and agree to accept only four selections or alternates during the coming year 



t Kiclty. Charm- 
duction to art for 
e family, includes 

lor plates. plu> 
I biographies of 
i't greatest and 
mted artists, 
er's edition, Js.95) 

IS, Ian Fleming 

ball and Cusino 
on which the 
re based: plus 
or's final 007 
re, Offopussy. 

tount as I choice. 

Is., $10.90) 


hamic history- of 
irful, crucial, 
-long clash 
1 feudal Europe 
un. By the author 
enne The Great. 
her's edition, J6.95) 


'tacton. From 
origins in Cor- 
1$, here is the 
)le story of the 
who changed the 
»f history. (Pub- 
edition, $7.95) 

280. THE LAST 100 DAYS 

John Toland. "The most 
important book yet about 
WW II," said Look of this 
best-selling account of 
victor and vanquished 
in the final days of the 
European struggle. 
iPub. edition, $8.95) 

Graham Greene. The 

acknowledged master of 
intellectual thrillers 
weaves a taut, suspense- 
ful tale of a hotel owner 
caught up in dictator- 
gripped Haiti. (Pub- 
lisher's edition, $S.7S) 

Irving Stone. New best- 
seller by the author of 
The Agony and the Ecsfflsy 
tells of John Adams' role 
in the founding of the 
nation — and his SO-year 
love affair with his wife. 
Abigail. (Pub. ed., $6 95) 

FAILURE, Jo Conderl 

Hailed by psychiatrists 
as a breakthrough in 
self-understanding, and 
one of the most talked- 
about books of recent 
years. (Publisher's 
edition, $5.95) 

298. TAI PAN, James 

ClaveU. A ruthless 
soldier of fortune seeks 
wealth and power amid 
the glitter and corrup- 
tion of I9th century 
Hong Kong. By the 
author of Kmg Rat. 
iPub. edition. So. 95) 

TAINING, James Beard 

America's foremost cook- 
book author is also a 
master entertainer. Over 
100 of his menus (with full 
recipes) for all occasions 
from picnics to formal 
parties. fPub. ed., $8.50) 

COURT, Isaac Bashevis 
Singer. The beloved 
storyteller has writ- 
ten a memoir of his 
Warsaw childhood as 
poignant as his most 
cherished fiction. 
(Pub. edition, $5.50) 

Noel Behn. An amoral 
young Naval officer, a 
sadistic spy and a beau- 
tiful electronics wizard 
use sex, drugs and vio- 
lence to obtain a secret 
letter worth millions. 
(Publisher's edition, $4.95) 



Matched set of the Nobel Prize winner's 
greatest classics. The Sun Also Rises, the 
"lost generation" novel that made him an 
overnight literary sensation; A Farewell to 

Arms, one of the 20th century's greatest love 
stories; and For Whom The Bell Tolls, his 
epic of passion and death in the Spanish 
Civil War. (Publisher's editions, $13.95) 

Literary Guild of America. Inc., Dept. 68-LHX, Garden City, N. Y. 

Please enroll me as a trial member of tl<e 
Literary Guild and send me tne FOUR books or 
sets vvhose numbers I have printed in ttie four 
bones at ttie rig^t. Bill me only $1 plus ship- 
ping for all four. If not delighted. I may 
return them In ID days and this membership 
will be cancelled. 

I do not need to accept a book every month 
— only as few as four a year — and may resign 
any time after purchasing four books. All se- 
lections and alternates will be described to 

■ R 

MRS - 


me in advance in the Guild's free monthly 
■ preview." and a convenient form will always 
be provided for my use if I do not wish to re- 
ceive a forthcoming selection. You will bill me 
the special Guild price for each book I take. 
This will always be at least 40%, often as 
much as 60%, below the price of the publish- 
er's edition. lA modest charge is added for 
shipping.; For each four monthly selections or 
alternates I accept. I may choose a valuable 
bonus book from the special bonus catalog 


lild membership 

r book club guarantees 
i other just-published 
you choose to remain 
Guild members at the 
much as 60%, below 

ions are chosen long 
embers in the Guild's 
_ s even heard of them, 
it them as soon as the 
embers are among the 
3 really big new books 
t them. 

always have complete 
you may take one of 
even take no book at 

lild books during the 

ilan helps you build a 
■ction or alternate you 
n a special catalog of 
'ther fine books. Most 
an even wider choice, 
$1.00 each, 
length - not a word is cut: 


Cwadian Enquiries: Place this car4 m e^^velope and mail to address aboie For rout cuavenience, books ' 
Canadian office. Offer good 

continemal U.S.A. and Canada only 

ill be si), oped from our 

The Literary Guild brings you 
the newest best-sellers for about half 
what you would pay elsewhere 

As a membf 
(often as mil 

ing arguments foi 
right now. The wii 
titles expresses quit 
mitment to offer yc 
60% — the most imp 
new books as soon 
In recent months, 
bers were offered T. 
$6.95 in the publish 
Days for $3.50 inst 
Love for $3.50 inste 
Such tremendous i 
like thesR are made j 
prints its own fine e 
designed especially 
runs. Full-cloth bin 
and colorful jackets 
addition to any libr 
The remarkable r 
securing so many br 
accident. Working 
publisher, keeping u 
in^; in the literary v 

Send no money. Just detach, fill in and mail 
the postpaid card below to get your choice of 

y\^NY FOUR bestsellers, 
reference works, even sets... A T jT j ^1 

if you join the Guild now and agree to accept only four selections 
or alternates during the coming year 


No Postage Stamp Necessary If Mailed In the U.S. 

Permit No. 3 
Garden City 
New York 


Postrigfj will 1)0 pdiil by 

Literary Guild of America, Inc. 
Garden City 

N.Y. 11531 


immortal Bard's entire 
output— all 37 plays, 154 
sonnets and two long 
poems, complete in 
1140 pages. 2 volumes 
count as 1 choice. 

274. THE MAGUS, John 
Fowles. Bigger, deeper 
than his The Collector. 
Major novel about a young 
Englishman on a Greek 
island who falls in love 
with a mysterious girl 
supposedly dead fur 
years. (Pub. edition, $7.95) 

296. YES I CAN: The Story 
of Sammy Davis, Jr. The manv consider the 
world's greatest per- 
former writes of his 
jtruRgles, his triumphs 
and his intredihiy happy 
marriage. (Publisher's 
rdillon, $6 «5) 

Phyllis A. Whitnty 

In the brooding beauty 
III .1 C' man^l(m, 
A young govrrnrvt flghti, 
to uAVf a girl from the 
I'vll of hrr f orrupt and 
bfiiutiful nuithrr. (Piih 
llihtr'a edition, ti.ti) 

A Family Album, Mark 
Shaw. The famed pho- 
tographer's intimate and 
loving collection of the 
late president, his wife 
and children, at work 
and play. (Publisher's 
edition, $7.50) 

BURNING, Cwyn Griffin 

The tawdry magnificence 
of Naples comes to life 
in this award-winning 
novel of a decadent 
family's scramble for a 
dead slumlord's fortune. 
(Publisher's edition, $6.95) 

Ralph Nader. How and 

why cars kill — the bru- 
tally honest book that 
rocked Detroit, scan- 
dalized the nation, and 
sparked a Congressional 
investigation (Pub- 
lisher's edition, $5.«5) 

K. B. CJIdrn. A big, 
puUalIng novel about 
a MmAll Georgia town. 
Kradrrs compare ll« 
• weeping utory with 
<;i)fii' IV(/li the Wind 
1 vnlumri count «• 1 
iholir (Pub. td., *7.«5) 

Larry Collins & Domi- 
nique Lapierre. T.uil, 
best-selling nari.iti\eol 
the Paris liberatii-n .ind 
how a Nazi gen< i 
finally disobevc I 
Hitler's order to i 
the citv. (Pub. cd >i' 

Alan Moorchead. I heo 

ploits of Captain ( ook. 
Captain Bligh and othtt 
South Sea explorers, 
and the tragic re .ults of 
their "civili/ini; '> 
fluence. (Publish. ^ 
edition, $5.95) 

BRAIN, Len Deighion 

Space age chille r hunt- 
ing with ironic humor, 
about a huge coTnp'iter 
which threatens tin- wort 
Bv author of Ficmck// in 
lierlin, The Ipcn -- Filt. 
(Publisher's edilicin, 


7. voluni mri t i 

I choice. Tolallii' 
page*, I,JOO pof-ii 
poeli, from Hem' 
Kobeil I rost. (N..r 
•vallabU in Cai>.><l.i| 

As your introduction, choose 



of these 53 hest-sellers, 
reference works, even sets 

ALL for 1 

if you join the Guild now and agree to accept only four selections or alternates during the coming year 


lent contemporar> 
translation of 
orld's greatest 
iture classic, with 
ings by the well- 
n illustrator, Hans 
in, $4.95) 


-eight memorable 
by the author of The 

ig Lwn$. Includes 

jn a Dead Jockey, 

Cirls in Their 

mer Dresses and In 
rerch Sty!e. 


Cordon. Unfor- 
le novel about the 
iage of a young 

and the daughter 
Christian minister, 
their struggle to sliy 
fher in a hostile 
d. (Pub. ed , S5 95) 


rHER, Davis Crabb 

novel describes the 

il murder of a 
in a southern town 
examines three gen- 

ons of the family 

produced the mur- 
r. (Pub. ed., $S.9S) 

ETIQUETTE. A modern, 
up-to-date guide to 
gracious living by the 
foremost authority on 
manners today. Over 700 
information-packed page> 
(Pub. edition, S5 50i 

Larry L. King. Novel 
of a free-v%hee!ing. 
power»hungry southern 
governor whose state 
is split wide open by 
a school integration 
court case. (Publisher's 
edition, S5 051 


John Knowles. A young 
man without money sets 
out to make his mark 
in the world of the very 
rich. By the prize- 
winning author of A 
Separate Peace. (Pub. 
edition, $4.95) 

John Le Carre'. The two 
best novels by the man 
who raised spy fiction 
to the level of art. 
2 vols, count as 1 choice. 
(Pub. editions, $9.45) 

HOME. Features maps of 
world's important cities, 
map-guide to U.S. parks 
and monuments, SO state 
maps, charts of other 
world facts, (Publisher's 
edition, SS.95) 

Robin Moore. .\ timely, 
best-selling fictionalized 
account of the "dirty 
war" in Viet Nam and 
the little-known U.S 
Special Forces with 
whom the author fought. 
(Publisher's edition, 54.95) 

Jacobson. A big novel; 
most of all, a "reading" 
book about very real 
people: a pioneering 
Jewish family who strike 
it rich in South Africa, 
then scatter to Israel and 
London. (Pub. ed., $6.95) 

OF MALCOLM X. Shocking 
testimon'. by 'the angri- 
est black man in America" 
who predicted he would 
not live to see this book 
in print. ' Brilliant, pain- 
ful, important . . . "— N. Y. 
Times. (Pub. ed., $7.50) 


Fairy tales, poems, 
myths and adventure 
stories for children of 
all ages. Illustrated with 
over 150 drawings. 
2 vols count as 1 choice. 
(Pub edition, $6.95) 

Edward Crankshaw 

First biography covering 
the ex-premier's entire 
political career, by one 
of the West's foremost 
authorities on Soviet 
Russia. (Publisher's 
edition, $7.50) 

83. HOTEL, Arthur Hailey 
Best-selling novel in 
Grand Hotel manner 
traces events ranging 
from near-rape to near- 
death during five lusty- 
days and nights in a 
New Orleans hotel. 
(Publisher's edition, $5.95) 

Francis Clifford. A 

"routine" espionage 
mission to Leipzig be- 
comes a nightmare that 
transforms a fatherly 
amateur agent into a 
professional killer. (Pub- 
lisher's edition, $4.95) 

Four special benefits of Literary Guild membership 

1. Guaranteed savings month after month: No other book club guarantees 
such great savings on today's top best-sellers and other just-published 
books. Savings, mind you, that continue as long as you choose to remain 
a member. Every selection and alternate comes to Guild members at the 
lowest prices anywhere — at least 40%, often as much as 60%, below 
the price of the publisher's edition. 

2. Pre-publication reviews: Because Guild selections are chosen long 
before pubUcation, they are fully described to members in the Guild's 
free monthly Preview before the pubhc at large has even heard of them. 
Then, selections are shipped to members who want them as soon as the 
pubUsher's edition is released. In this way, Guild members are among the 
first to know about — and to own, if they wish — the really big new books 
right when people are just beginning to talk about them. 

3. Wide choice: As a Literary Guild member, you always have complet 
freedom of choice. If you don't want a selection, you may take one o: 
the many alternates (20 or more every month), or even take no book at 
all. Remember, you agree to accept only four Guild books during the , 
coming year. 

4. Bonus books: The Guild's unique bonus book plan helps you buiid a 
fine library at no extra cost. After every fourth selection or alternate you 
buy, you are entitled to choose a bonus book from a special catalog of 
recent best-sellers, reference works, classics and other fine books. Most 
of the bonus books are free, but to give members an even wider choice, 
a few extra-value books are offered at a charge of $1.00 each. 

NOTE: Guild e(jitions are sometimes reduced in size but texts are full-length - not a word is cut! 

Ghastly error 
in all barbecue 
recipes in your 

They left 
this out: 

Meat ^ 

★ \ 

• Good HouMkwping • 

''^ WUUIKI >J 

3ut don't yo . leavr • Tenderizer out of your cook 

ing. If not Of ly ma^ , , ,;rjer, it also helps keep meat 

juicy, reducf,-. shrink,., it-> cooking time up to 25%. What's moro, 
Adolph's wor^s instantly no waiting time before you start to work. 
And it performs the same wonders on fi .h and poultry, too. 
PS. Adolph's is available Seasoned and Un»ea»oned, You'll enjoy both! 


A Column for Mothers Oniy 

The greatest child-care experts in the world are mothers, because 
they alone know the special joys and daily headaches of bringing up 
children. To tap this natural source of experience, we have asked 
our readers to share with each other their best solutions to the 
everyday problems of living with children. 

LOOK WITH A LOLLIPOP: If you really want to 
look down a child's sore throat, use a lollipop 
instead of a tongue depressor. — Mrs. N. Las- 
kow, Torrance, Calif. 


keep peace at mealtime, 
I have devised a system: 
one gets served first, but 
the other gets more, so 
while one is gloating about being first, the 
other gloats because his share is larger. 
—Mrs. G. DiStefano, Yardley, Pa. 

SWING SONG: For a toddler who 
loves the aluminum swings in the 
park, but who slides out in 
spite of the safety bar, put a 
rubber bathmat on the seat to 
prevent his slipping.— Mrs. C. Ruff, New York, N.Y. 

POCKET NOTES: So my daughter would be less 
lonely while I was in the hospital, I put notes in 
her pockets to be read when she dressed. I 
wrote, "I love you," or "Did you make your 
bed?" and occasionally enclosed a dime. One 
said, "Throw me a kiss on the wind," and when 
got home, the first thing 
shewanted to know was 
whether I got her , — ■ 
kiss.— Mrs. E. Griffin, 





Council Bluffs, Iowa. 

BABY CABANA: When you take 
baby to the beach, take along 
his playpen. When it's his nap- 
time, place himona blanketand 
turn the playpen upside down 
over him. This 

keeps the hot sun off him, and he can w.itch 
everything. And it makes a great carry-aii, 
— Mrs. J. Santa, Cincinnati, Ohio. 

SUMMER SOUP: In hot summer weather, 
I give my children an opened can of vegeta- 
ble soup, heated 
or cold, and a 
spoon, and send 
them into the back- 
yard for a "picnic." 
There's no cooking, 
no mess and they get a serving of vege- 
tables.— Mrs. M. Martin, Anthony, N. Mex 

SUPER SHOPPER: To keep my child 
out of mischief when he trails after me 
in the supermarket, I give him a hand- 
ful of labels and boxtops from products I need, 
and let him match them up. This keeps him 
busy and interested. It even improves his read- 
ing. — Mrs. M. Koslover, Reading, Mass. 

LAW OF THE JUNGLE: Thanks to the Tarzan 
movies on TV, I find that an extended arm, a point- 
ing finger and a commanding voice saying "UN- 
GOW-WA" (I'm unsure of the spelling of this magic 
word from the jungle) sends my grandson on his task 
at once. No more threats or pleading because 
"UN-GOW-WA" does the trick. Just be sure to point 
in the rij^ht direction.— Mrs. C. Kirchhoefer, Sorento, III 

Hoiv do you so/i/c your problems in bringing up children? 
The Journal p.iys $Pb to the first contributor of each item pub- 
lished. Advice of godmothers ,ind l),il)y sitters, ns well as mothers, 
is entirely welcome! Address your solutions to Julie G. Maxey, cio Ladies' 
Home Journal, Rm. 12, 641 Lexington Avenue, New York. N. Y. 10022. 

It had to haopen 
A new wash-on 

plain soap ! 

You use Palmolive ^ Gold just like a 
regular soap and it protects all of you 
against odor! That's more protection 

than any plain soap or ordinary 
deodorant ever gave you. Other soaps 
^jj^" have offered deodorant protection, 

we know. But Palmolive Gold 
is different: it has more 
hexachlorophene to stop odor 
than any other leading soap. 
So good-bye, plain soap. 
Use Palmolive Gold every 
day and it will keep you 
^^Ift protected constantly. 

*^ All of you. It's a 

^^^ii^ new wash-on 



<S) 1966, Colgate-Palmolive Company 

every Frosty Rose Sheet is a Complete Fashion Packag^ 

Decorate with our sheets as sheets. Or (1) shower roses 
floor to ceiling with Frosty Rose as wallpaper. 

(2) Add a touch of luxury with a quilted headboard. 

(3) Sew a matching bed flounce. (4) Carry out ideas like the: 
with our new decorating booklet. Now at # /i^fti^ 
the fine store near you that features ^ . J/i 
Lady Pepperell fashion sheets 
and coordinated blankets. 

Does a firm mattresss, 
have to be uncomfortable? 

Don't confuse a hard mattress with a firm 

All you and your spouse get from a hard 
mattress is a hard night's sleep. You'd be 
almost as well off sleeping on the floor. 

A firm mattress supports firmly where it 
should. And gives just enough where it should. 
Like a Beautyrest. - . 

The Beautyrest. By Simmons. 

Beautyrest is different. It's made with 

separate individual coils. They're not wired 
together as in- other mattresses, so they don't 
sag together. Each Beautyrest coil is free to do 
what your body wants it to do. 

Shift a hip. Dig in a shoulder. Roll over. 
Stretch out. Every inch of your body gets firm, 
flexible support. Natural support. Beautyrest 
lets you sleep like a lamb, wake like a lion. 

Want extra bedroom? See our Beautyrest 
Super-sizes. The Queen-size Beautyrest set 

is just $1 99.50.* The King-size set (including 
mattress and f^wo box springs) is 
only $299.50.* 

Don't drive a hard bargain with your spine. 
Insist — firmly — on c Beautyrest. 


Free "How fo Buy a Mattress" Booklet. Write: Simmons, Merchandise Mart, Chicago, III.© 1966 by Simmons Co., Mdse. Mart, Chicogo, III. 'Suggested price except in fqir trade stat 

!> 4 



It's that time of t . uain— time to 
start thinking b:-ck-to-scIiool 
thoughts. Which means, among 
other things what to wea back to 
school. So here are a few fashion 
points to keep in n:md while 
shopping: Kilt skirts and knee 
socks are back stronger than 
ever. (Were they ever really 
gone?) The kilts look newest in 
white wool; more about knee 
socks, below. Almost anything 
that looks "Army" or "Navy" is 
great now— this means epaulets, 
lots of brass buttons, blouses, 
dresses, coats with a snap-to-at- 
tention military air. Great, too: 
almost anything that looks 
"cowboy"— you know. West- 
em shirts, hipster skirts, etc. And be 
sure to watch for easy-fitting, long- 
sleeved dresses like the one at right; 
wear them as short as you dare. This 
one is made of a wonderfully soft, 
sweatshirty fabric (the wrong side is 
"brushed" like the inside of a sweat- 
shirt), and comes in ten colors, in- 
cluding orange, evergreen, grape and 
blueberr\' heather tones. By Some- 
place Else, of Acrilan knit. $14.95. 

If you kn/f— even just a Uttle bit- 
why not while away time at the beach now 
making matching stockings 
helmet hats, and 
ave them ready to 
wear on the first cool 
day in the fall? 
Both versions 
here— the 
'daytime knee 
and helmet, 
left, and the sequin(ed 
evening stockings 
and helmet, far right 
on this page— are 
easy to make, f We used 
Qjats & Clark's Red 
Heart Yam.; For com- 
plete knitting in- 
! .-^tnjft ifipg write to O^ats 
" 7 T 1 & Clark, Inc., Depart- 
( n.ent J.J., Box 495, 
Fairlawn, New Jer:^*y. 

"Teen /V? mners" 

1 . ;i hclpiul .'ifc^rma- 
tivencw b^x.k! -t, writ- 

indcrbilt. In it 


is pr« 

whom?), letter writing, clothes, 
health and beauty. You may 
obtain a copy by sending 25c 
to Miss Amy Vanderbilt, 
Box 1155 Weston, Connecticut. 

If you're a Barbra Streisand fan 
(and who isn't, these days?) 
you'll be interested to know 
that Barbra has a 15-year-oId 
half-sister named Roslyn Kind. 
Roslyn, who has a wonder- 
ful singing voice of her own, 
once thought she 
wanted to be a law- 
yer, but recently de- 
cided that she, too, 
would like a career 
in show business. Friends say her 
imitation of Barbra is letter- 
perfect. Where Barbra is known for 
her kooky clothes, Roslyn is con- 
servative; where Barbra is mer- 
curial, Roslyn stays on an even 
keel. Otherwise, the girls are amaz- 
ingly similar— in which case, we'll 
probably be hearing more about 
Roslyn soon. For lots more about 
Barbra, see pages 60-64 in this issue. 

Crazy, campy way to help 
break the ice at parties, the 
Irving Harris Drama Kit, "Skits and 
Sketches," is a collection of ten original 
comedy blackouts. Each "bit" (or skit) 
comes complete with instructions, a script 
for announcer and one for each "actor." 
Skits include several all-in-fun takeoff s on 
familiar television commercials, and one 
particularly timely one called "Younger 
and Younger," about a nine-year-old rock 
'n' roll singer. Other ways to put the skit 
kit to work: Camp counselors or baby- 
sitters might use it to amuse their 
young charges; clubs might find it fun 
and helpful for fund-raising or variety 
shows. From Irving Harris, 165 E. 33rd 
Street, New York, N.Y. 1(X)16. $3.75 ppd. 

Meet young filmmaker Gerry Herman, 
a blfjnflisti, hlue-cyed, 19-year-old sopho- 
more-to-be at New York University. 
Gerry's first film, Caution Children, was 
made with rented and borrowed equipment 
on a budget of $8(X) ("m(;stly summer-job 
money") and starred two children from his 
nelKhh^jrhfxKl in Slingcrlanrls, New York. 
Cnulion Childien won the C.I.N.E. Ivigle. 
(C.I.N.E. is the O^uncil on International 
No' M;. 'riail Events, in Washington; the 
J- arded \n films of ( xcclient cine- 

if: rjualily and indicates that 
orlhy i)i rcpres<rnling the U.S. in 
film fentivalH,; The movie alw) won 

second prize in the senior category of the 
Kodak Teen-age Movie Contest. For Gerry, 
films— watching them and making them— 
are a way of life. He saw more than 150 
movies during the past year. ("I haven't 

Gerry Herman — young filmmaker with ideas. 

seen nearly so many new films as I have 
old ones— I've been trying to catch up on 
sixty years of film history.") And he has 
definite ideas about "speaking out" for 
better films. The public's acceptance or 
avoidance of a movie is the only way the 
producers have of knowing what kinds of 
films should be made and distributed. By 
going to a movie only because it is popular, 
even though the critics may have hated 
it, we are just asking for more bad movies." 
Most of Gerry's heroes are directors: 
Hitchcock, Orson Welles, 
Tmffaut head the list. "A 
good movie is the wonder- 
fully integrated re- 
sult of so many sep- 
arate talents- 
script writers, a 
composer, pho- 
set and cos- 
tume de- 
signers, actors- 
all supervised by the 
director. This is one 
thing that excites hk 
about making mov- 
ies." Gerry is spending 
the summer assisting 
a producer of documei 
tary films and planning 
more projects of his own. 
"I believe in keeping your 
eyes open twenty-four 
hoursa day, and in not In nu 
afraid to love or hate wli;iL 
you see. When the time 
comes to share your ex- 
periences—then go ah( ;k1 
and write a b(X)k, paint 
a picture, play a saxo- 
phone—or make a movi(-." 

Bathing sun. Jantzen 

Cares are oceans away 


fresh, » 
even on problem days. 
Tampax tampons, 

worn internally, make 
the difference. 

This modern sanitary 

protection lets you 

wear what you wish, 
do what you want. 

You get 

■ total freedom with 




Ann's Next-Door Neighbors Were Troublemakers 


Many readers will recognize in this 
case the story of some friend or ac- 
quaintance '. Young people are grow- 
ing up without sense of direction, 
without much real purpose in life, 
without values that have deep meaning 
for them. The idea that marriage is 
the most important enterprise they 
will ever undertake, and that it re- 
quires preparation and commitment, 
is no part of the '"fun morality ' 
which so often seems to be all that 
their culture has given them. Ann's 
neighbors were troublemakers — no 
doubt about that! But what was the 
matter with Ann herself and with 
Stan, her husband? Plenty; and a 
counselor helped them to find out. 
Then their innate but neglected com- 
mon sense saved the day for them. 
The counselor was Kenneth W. 

Paul Popenoe, Sc.D. 
Founder and president 
The American Institute of 
Family Relations 

"Stan blames our next-door 
neighbors, Greg and Ruth, for our 
separation," said 21-year-fj|d Ann, 
a silm-waisted blonde with a Sas- 
soon hairr-ut and wide blue eyes. 
TTiree we^ks earlier, Ann and her 
baby daughter had moved in with 
her mother. "My husband is mis- 
Uken. Fkjth Greg and Huth think 
Stan i« jealous and prejudired 
againfft fJrep Ixnause he is subcon- 

M -A from Stfin- 


a Nirt.ill ri' 

Tliere ijt 

their |>tiilr^ 

nrxin aji 1 

KuUi'm way ' 

tally, irfie w< ' ' 

a Hwank w i 

two of th»rrr) i . > 

me, a wirt of no i . 

lege t.f\yu nUnn l.jii. 

iag(« f miwied out on. 

"My marriage to Stan was done 
for — boredom and incompatibility 
killed it— long before Greg and 
Ruth bought the house next to us 
and put in the only swimming pool 
in our area. They introduced a little 
glaunour and excitement to the dull 
domesticity of our TV-, P.T.A.- 
saturated community. Greg and 
Ruth are slightly older than most 
couples in our neighborhood, and 
both are real swingers with groovy 
vocabularies and mature, sophisti- 
cated ideas. The three of us can talk 
for hours on any subject. 

"I used to think I should send up 
skyrockets or fall on my knees in 
gratitude if Stan volimtarily spoke 
two words to me when he came 
home from work. Usually he kissed 
the baby, forgot to kiss me, took a 
quick shower and raced forth, drip- 
ping, to flip on the TV or radio be- 
fore some vital sports event could 
escape him. 

"One Sunday, about a month 
ago, he promised to drive our 
daughter Kay and me to the beach 
for a picnic lunch. Instead he settled 
in the den to spend what he invari- 
ably describes as a 'few minutes.' 
For three hours he watched a golf 
match on our color TV and a base- 
ball game on the black and white 
set, 8wit<;hing his eyes back and 
forth from one strreen to the other 
until I hoped he would dislocate a 
vertebra in his neck. I yelled at him, 
I packed the lunch and waved the 
basket under his nose, but he paid 
iiohfied. Finally— maybe our hungry 
baby's howling arou«<;d him - he 
stirred and lfx>ked at his wat<,h, and 
I joyfully seizc<l the picnic basket. 
II didn't budge from his chair. 
' I li d right i>ast me and tuned 
( U\\)\n radirj for a rcjjlay ol 
n game. 

Ik- lunch basket on the 
' ■ '< roll»fl (-vi-ry 
■ III- < racki-(l. I 
• il<d him and 
I tvt hard it 'm 

a wonder the control knobs didn't 
break. When I grabbed for the 
radio, Stan grabbed it back. Quite 
calmly, as though nothing unusual 
had occurred, he turned the TV sets 
on again and continued watching 
and listening. He acted as though I 
wasn't in the room at all, and I got 
a chilling, lonesome feeling that has 
sunk me to the bottom of despair. 
He made me feel I had no existence 
as a person. I doubt he even saw me 
snatch the baby and nm next door 
in tears. The baseball, football and 
golf simply blanked out his mind. 

"Ruth and Greg knew exactly 
what was wrong with me, of course, 
since they could plainly hear our 
TV sets and radio. They both de- 
test spectator sports, and regard 
baseball as particularly revolting. 
Ruth gathered in our baby — she 
and Greg have no children — and 
carried her to the kitchen for a 
snack. Greg took me in his arms 
and dried my eyes with his hand- 
kerchief. When I just cried harder, 
he kissed the tears away. 

"It was the first time Greg had 
ever kissed me; for a moment all I 
could think of was that he was 
Ruth's husband. I'll admit I felt 
strange and shaky, even panicky. 
But their kitchen area is open to the 
living room. Ruth saw us and 
smiled and called from the kitchen: 
'Enjoy yourselves, enjoy yourselves; 
the night is long and lonesome 
and (»ming soon! Today is all that 
belongs to us.' 

"That's the way Ruth and Greg 
talk, think and oi)erate. According 
to them, jealousy and possessive- 
nesH are primitive anachronisms, 
and should be abolished from mar- 
riage; all human beings should be 
free emotionally and in fact. They 
believe grown men md women have 
a pcrfiM t rij;(i». |)racti( ally a duty, 
U) nw ;il>o\ ifling conventiouH 
-Mfj V .,rr. ' afTectionate with 
l)(;li(!ve life; Ih 
" out love. And I 

agree with them. At this point it 
seems to me that Stan and I should 
never have married. Basically Stan 
is cold, unconcerned with my feel- 
ings, my dreams, my thoughts. We 
met three years ago when I went to 
work for his father's construction 
business at a time when I was 
pretty disillusioned with myself 
and the entire male sex. After fin- 
ishing high school 1 had chalked up 
three broken engagements — all 
three boys had proved to be dis- 
appointing for different reasons — 
and I had virtually made up my 
mind I would remain single and 
settle for a business career. 

"On my first day at work Stan in- 
troduced me around. His father's 
company is small but prosperous; 
my husband now earns approxi- 
mately $15,000 a year. I was terri- 
bly impressed by Stan's title of vice 
president, by his ambition and good 
looks. I was also impressed by his 
dancing, which I had a chance to 
test that evening. It has been 
months now since he and I have 
gone dancing. In those days, Stan 
was interested in my tastes and 
preferences, and I soon fell in love 
with him, or so I told myself at the 
time. In three weeks we became 

"He bought me a beautiful ring 
and immediately began to urge that 
we fix a wedding date. The more he 
pressured me the less inclined I felt 
to marry. For some reason it has al- 
ways been easier for me to fall in 
love than to stay in love. Just when 
I decided Stan and I weren't really 
suited lo each other, that I didn't 
really love him after all, I discov- 
ered I was pregnant. I simply 
couldn believe it, or maybe I 
wouldii : believe it, but the doctor 
confimur! my fears. Perhaps the 
news of mv pregnancy should have 
cause lo feel more loving to- 

ward M, It did the oi)i)08ite. 

"All lliat weekend I cried and 
walk< : M l- floor (continued) 

,','1^ ?•'"!"*"- ';' ' til i.<)ijr«iioniil. coufn.llng an. ii organization with a o( 

. . . .i - 'Irnwii from Intarvlawt with CO. i . -)' oun»olor» Involved. Naninr,, 

• ■ I t/ of lha I '/ij(,i. ■ , .i(iM»liii(j. 



Sew for breakfast! Tbastem Pop-Ups 


The ones with the juicier fruit fiUing! 

buVe never tasted anything as good for breakfast as Toast'ems . . . 
rand-new and toaster-quick. The pastry is thin and flaky. So light 
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'ith real fruit. Real fruit that stays fresh and moist and tasty, 
bast'ems are quick and easy to prepare. Just open the 
ackage . . . toast 'em . . . and eat 'em. Delicious ! 
Nourishing, too. And Toast'ems even stay ^ ^ 
•esh without refrigeration. 

ive delicious fruit fillings . . . try them all:^ '^'ft 

rawberry, blueberry, apple, grape, and red raspberry 



geis them 


Guarantees the most spot-free washing-the most 
spot-free glasses, silver, dishes any dishwasher 
an wash — or your money back. Dishwasher a// 
gets in and under spots, 
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them away. Even dishes 
stacked for hours wash sparkling clean, come out 
beautifully spotless. Leading dishwasher manu- 
facturers recommend Dishwasher a//. Try it today! 

AV*fr Oiuni size! 

THIS MARRIAGE contiuurd 

of my rooming house. Eventually I de- 
cided I would handle the problem on my 
own. I felt it was wrong to marry a man 
I didn't love, and was unwilling to sub- 
ject either him or myself to a loveless 
match. I fully intended to keep him in 
the dark. 

"On Monday morning I returned his 
diamond to him, exactly as I had planned 
to do before my visit to the doctor, re- 
signed my job, gave up my room and 
went back home to ask my mother's ad- 
vice. My mother has plenty of faults, but 
lack of sympathy isn't among them. She 
didn't remind me of her many, many 
warnings and lectures on how to handle 
sex and make men toe the mark. She 
didn't treat me as though I were guilty 
of a crime. On the contrary, after she 
heard my story she offered to help me lo- 
cate another job —she has worked hard 
at hard jobs all her life— and to help me 
at the time the baby came. 



-other has been unlucky at love and 
marriage herself — I had several step- 
fathers, and detested them— and so she 
doesn't regard marriage as a cure-all. 
Four irresponsible husbands, my alco- 
holic father included, and numerous 
worthless boyfriends have taught her not 
to count on men. She reared and sup- 
ported my sisters and me with minimum 
assistance and we were always a do- 
without family, but we squeaked by. 

"When Mom and I put our heads to- 
gether and figured out my future, we for- 
got to figure on Stan. Early next morn- 
ing he showed up at Mom's apartment, 
and at once he ferreted out the truth. He 
insisted that we get married right away. 
He said the baby I was carrying belonged 
to him as much as to me, and deserved a 
father. Mom sided with him. 

"As usual, I was persuaded to give in. 
Even as a little girl I used to let my 
best friend of the moment choose the 
game we were to play. Anyhow, Stan 
and I were married that afternoon. 

"Looking back, I guess I did love him 
those first months. I could hardly help it. 
He bought a nice home for us, a better 
place than I had ever lived in, opened 
department-store accounts for me and 
never questioned the size of the bills— 
which, of course, I held in reasonable 
bounds. All during my pregnancy he was 
darling, telephoning several times a day 
to inquire how I felt, rushing home with 
little gifts for me or the baby, praising 
everything I cooked, although I was just 
learning and a lot of the food I served 
was dreadful. We owned no TV. 

"When our baby was born and turned 
out to be a girl, I was afraid Stan would 
show his disappointment, since I'm sure 
he would have preferred a son. But he 
seemed delighted. 

"Our troubles began when Kay was 
about three months old and Stan bought 
two TV sets at a close-out sale. The baby 
needed nursery furniture. In fact, I had 
halfway signed an order for the furniture 
and the store was holding it until I had 
an opportunity to consult Stan. While 
he was gl^jutiiig over the new color tele- 
viHion ;i,i(t claiming the $100 price was a 
Hleul, 1 a^lu'd him how bu.sincsa was. He 
mumbled that bunineHH waH fine and for 
mi! to buy anything I wanted. 

"In the morning I looked at (he buMi- 
nvm page In the newHimper, and was 
Mhocki'd to n ad that the conHtruction 
bUMineMM wuH f lower than it had been in 
.yeurw. I telephoned the company book- 
keeper, with whom I got acquaintetl 

while I worked there. She told me St 
department had been operating in 
red for months, that he and his dad 
pared office expenses to the bone. I t 
celed the nursery furniture and stu( 
up on bargain menus. 

"When Stan came in I didn't ne 
him about business conditions or tl 
TV sets. 1 did tell him the baby c( 
get along without new furniture and 
plained I could easily cut our i 
budget. I expected a pat on the bac 
didn't get one. Next day the nur 
furniture was delivered; Stan had f 
ahead and ordered it. I was so hurt at 
way he left me out of his worries 
shoved me out of his life and knowU 
of his affairs, I sat down and cried. 

"Ruth ran over for coffee just aftei 
delivery van left, found me snivelin 
the kitchen and called across the fi 
for Greg. My two friends soon wor 
out the reason for my hurt, and t 
comfort was sweet. They assured 
that Stan's insensitivity, his refusa 
share his thoughts and business anxi( 
with me, his lack of confidence in 
brains, were typical. They said I was I 
ish to expect to achieve closeness 
trust, genuine companionship wit 
hidebound business executive. 

"The big blowup between Stan 
me took place the following week- 
my birthday. When J was growing 
family birthdays never amounttr 
much; we didn't exchange gifts excej 
Christmas, because Mom found it tc 
just to dig up grocery and rent mo 
Stan bought me an evening coat wi 
mink collar. It was too elaborate for 
neighborhood get-togethers and sir 
dances he and I had so rarely atten 
Also, it was unbecoming and didn'l 
and, with his business in the red, i 
couldn't afford it. 

"I thanked him for his thoughtfulr 
I held my tears inside, put on that 
eous coat and walked next door with 1 
to a birthday party in my honor. He 
arranged it with Ruth and Greg 
surprise. Everybody cheered wher 
appeared. Everybody except the 
and hostess. 

"Greg and Ruth knew exactly h 
was feeling. They knew how mixec 
adrift and angry I felt, how I longi 
run away and hide. As quickly as | 
bis, Greg got me out of the coat, go 
a drink, told me I might be twent^ 
and voting age but could easily pa^ 
twenty. We laughed like crazy. 

"Later on, when he and I left the : 
party and walked through the gate 
into our quiet house, with his arm ar; 
me and my head resting on his shoi 
everything that happened seemed 
and natural — preordained, as Greg 
But then Stan crashed in on us, 
roared and shouted and demanded 
vorce and custody of the baby, 
came, too, and there was a drel 

)tan now sa.ys he doesn't want 
vorce and that I can't have one. H( 
the baby and I must come home, th 
and I can work out a better marrii 
good marriage. I doubt that. lie (Mi 
Irust me. Regardless of Stan's ugl <' 
picions, Greg and I have no plans 
ever to marry, nor does Greg intc 1 

split up with Ruth. My affectio 
Greg does n!)t depend on legalism.s. 
my dear frit'iid, my very dear friend 
Ruth. They thoroughly approvi? < 
break with Stan, and say that 
liarnperH my growl h and devclopm 
a woman. icdnti 

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cannot honor multiple requests. 


THIS MARRIAGE continued 

"I think I should get a job and sup- 
port my baby and myself. I should lead 
a free, independent life and have a 
chance to derive some enjoyment from 
my youth as I develop and mature." 

y next-door neighbors busted up 
my marriage and robbed me of my wife 
and child just for kicks," 29-year-old 
Stan said bleakly to the counselor at the 
American Institute of Family Relations. 
"Neither Greg nor Ruth gives a hoot for 
Ann. They just like to pull the strings 
and put naive, unsuspecting younger 
folks through the wringer. 

"Greg is forty-one and calls himself an 
artist; Ruth is thirty-eight and inherited 
a sufficient income to carry them. Their 
chief occupation is home-wrecking. Until 
they invaded our neighborhood, Ann 
and I were getting along OK, although 
she did complain sometimes. 

"What really burns me is that I put 
myself out to be friendly to Ruth and 
Greg. I blistered my hands helping 
Greg— he is unable to drive a nail with- 
out hitting his thumb— install his swim- 
ming pool. He and Ruth then threw a 
series of poolside, get-acquainted parties, 
with free liquor, free food, free every- 
thing else. There have been two divorces 
already, one in back of us and the other 
across the street, strictly on account of 
those so-called sophisticated get-to- 
gethers of theirs. Sophisticated— hell ! 
People were trading husbands and wives 
back in Bible times, but they didn't brag 
about it. 

"I'm not about to let Ruth and Greg 
push Ann and myself into court. She has 
no grounds to divorce me, and I won't 
divorce her. If she truly cared for Greg 
and he cared for her I might feel differ- 
ent. I won't stand still and let her carry 
on a cheap affair with Greg and turn into 
a cheap little tramp just to amuse him 
and that nympho wife of his. 

"Unless Greg stays away from Ann, as 
I told him the other night in plain words, 
I intend to knock his block off. I told 
Ruth the same thing. Ruth's response 
was to suggest that she and I resolve the 
situation and get a fresh new slant on the 
meaning of life by having an affair our- 
selves. She offered to move in with me 
right then for a temporary stay, and 
promised that Greg would approve! I 
said no thanks, and not too politely. 

"Ann and our baby ought to come 
back to me, and she knows it. She can't 
camp with her mother indefinitely; six 
months ago my mother-in-law married a 
man with five kids, and her apartment is 
bursting at the seams. I'm well aware 
Ann can land a good job and support her- 
self—she is very capable— but there 
would be nobody to take care of Kay. 

"My mother-in-law has a heart as big 
as all outdoors, hut she's in no position 
to be a sit^at-home grandmother. She 
has to work because of her rotten judg- 
ment in men; she has picked one lemon 
after another. Her present husband is a 
real creep who beats her up nearly every 
night after he eats the food she pays for 
and cooks to feed him and his kids. I 
don't li If • exposing my daughter and Ann 
lo thai ;il,niOH|)here, even though my 
motlirr in-law and I eHtablished a mu- 
tual udMiirai ion Bocietyalong while ago, 

"She • exact, opposite of my own 
mother I i he ail vaniage is all on her 
Nide. M v^ '■ I I I V lias her wcakncHH- 
i-H liki evcr 1 .,.lv . I . , hut she is a giver 
nola taki-r. M v r-..,i \„.r huHneverearned a 
cent, H(id li. liiiK HprecH have kept 

Dad in debt. He doles out the absolute 
minimum of cash to her in order to teach 
her thrift, but with the aid of our credit 
economy she invariably outsmarts him. 
No sooner does Dad settle and close out 
an overdue charge account at one store 
than she sneaks around the corner and 
opens an account at another. 

"A few months ago she and Dad sat at 
the head table of a big civic banquet- 
part of our business depends on public 
goodwill and showing up at the proper 
social functions— and I guess Mother did 
need a new dress. Dad handed her $20 to 
buy it. She spent the $20 on a pair ol 
gloves and at the same time charged a 
dress, a so-called original, that cost $250. 
Our business happened to be lousy, and 
still is lousy. Ever since, Dad has been 
bellowing at Mother about that dress, 
which isn't paid for yet. 

"In my boyhood I trained myself tc 
shut my ears, whenever my parents 
argued. So now I can shut out Dad's 
yells and Mother's whine-whine-whine. 
If Ann starts rattling along about noth- 
ing while I'm trying to concentrate on a 
baseball game — like many women, she if 
dumb about sports — I'm not disturbed 
I just shut off my ears. 

"As a boy I got such a sour picture o 
marriage that I planned to remain ; 
bachelor, even though I did want kids, 
was determined I wouldn't be trappei 
into marrying a woman like my mother 
a clinging vine unable to take care of her 
self, a whiner. Then, when I was twenty 
seven, Ann came along and I met thi 
kind of girl I didn't realize existed. 

"Ann can do anything she puts hei 
mind to. In a few weeks she learned t( 
cook, keep a clean house, sew on my but- 
tons, iron my shirts and make her owi 
clothes — although she got little teaching 
in the domestic line from her mother 
She has all the spunk in the world and ii 
super-thrifty — too much so, actually 
I've always wanted to give her mon 
things, look after her more. Did you eve) 
hear of a girl who ran out on her man ai 
the very minute she discovered she was' 
pregnant with his child? Well, she die' 
just that. Luckily her mother phone(' 
and tipped me off, and I talked sensr 
into her and we married. i 

I admire and I love Ann. Thi I' 
doesn't mean I consider her a perfec 
wife. In my bachelor days I knew severa 
women who were better sexual partner? 
During all our lovemaking Ann neve 
once caused me to feel I was satisfyin; 
or giving pleasure to her; never once ii 
our eighteen months of marriage did slv 
make overtures to me. Indeed she seeme^ 
so indifferent to sex that I lost some ol 
my own interest; I didn't feel inclined t'l 
force my attentions on her. I sometime; 
think that deep, deep down Ann doesn'' 
really like men very much. This seem 
strange in view of the fact that at ever^ 
party we ever attended she went all oui 
to flirt with every man. I more or les; 
quit taking her to parties. It is no fun fo 
me to stand in a corner while she giggle" 
and bats her eyes at other fellows. 

"The last party I took Ann to was ; 
surprise birthday party in her honor 
which I was dumb enough lo agre 
should bo held next door. For some tim' 
previously I had been in the doghoUi" 
with Ann for reasons I couldn't comj)re 
hend— I'm now convinced Greg am 
Ruth were undermining me and 
Hpoke to my father about the problelB 
Dad's advice was for me to buy Ann i 
great birl hday present and throw a partj 
for her. {conlinuei 




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I 2S9I - 371 


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THIS MARRIAGE continued 

"Ann thanked me for my gift, ; v - 
ril be paying for for t lie next six months, 
but she did it in an iceberg voice. She put 
on the coat and accompanied me to the 
party next door, but soon I saw her slip 
away with Greg. I followed and caught 
them in my house. Greg had the gall to 
tell me I was small-minded, provincial 
and old-fashioned, that my attitude was 
insulting to Ann. Whereupon he invited 
me to leave them, to 'behave like a gen- 
tleman," and go back to the party. Ann 
backed him up. In the midst of the fist 
fight between Greg and me, Ruth dashed 
over and clawed my face until the blood 
ran, and finally the fight stopped. 

"Ruth and Greg together gave me a 
tongue-lashing as though 1 was the one 
in the wrong. Next day they helped Ann 
pack and move the baby to her mother's. 

"In my opinion, my wife has been cor- 
rupted by experts, is now off her rocker 
and needs help to regain her common 
sense. I think she and our baby need me." 


^nn and Stan's neighbors did touch 
ofT the explosion that brought this cou- 
ple's troubles to the surface," the coun- 
selor said. "However, there were sub- 
terranean troubles in their relationship 
from the beginning. Neither Ann nor 
Stan was wholeheartedly committed to 
the marriage, and so they were unable to 
defend it against outside attack. 

"Ann was aware of her mother's hard- 
ships and unhappy life. Nevertheless she 
was subconsciously following the pattern 
of her mother's restless wandering from 
man to man. Before she met Stan she 
had been engaged several times, only to 
break ofT each engagement for no par- 
ticular reason and drift on to a new 
association. It was easier for Ann, as she 
herself put it, to fall in love than to stay 
in love. 

"She inherited her mother's industry 
and energy as well as the rootlessness 
and lack of goals and standards. In order 
to attract and hold each and every child- 
hood friend, she clung to friends and 
went along with their suggestions, re- 
gardless of her own wishes. As a result, 
her values became so hopelessly con- 
fused there were times when she scarcely 
knew what she really thought. 

"She drew her scanty knowledge of 
men from the chaotic procession of her 
mother's husbands and boyfriends. Stan 
was correct in his surmise that deep down 
Ann didn't really like men. Her mother's 
miserable experiences had taught her to 
be contemptuous of the opposite sex 
even though she persistently sought 
masculine approval. 

"She also sought the paternal affec- 
tion she had been denied as a small girl. I 
am reasonably sure that the si)ell cast 
for Ann by Greg, the aging wolf, was 
bastid on her hunger for the father she 
never knew. When I asked her to sum up 
for me the qualities she desired in a hu.s- 
hand, Hhc did not describe anyone resem- 
bling Greg. To her own surprist-, Ann 
deHcribed as an ideal husband a man 
very much like Stun. 

"In h'iH f/rvn way Stan was just as sus- 
(licioUM and igrujrant of the oppcjsite sex. 
Stun'it knowledge of women was formed 
by hiM mother. DeHpile llie fad that Ann 
WUH the untitheHiH of the older woman 
i jiiTjjel ic where hlH mother wum lazy, 
•l.rlfly where Mh mother whh exlruva- 
t;iinl, mildly interinU-d in ( lothen when- 
hU mother whh fanatically vain Stun 
lii-h;ived UH thouich IiIm wiff and rriotlifj 
were Idenlicul twlnn. 


"After he married Ann he treated hei 
)'■• the manner his father treated hi; 
mother, which was a serious mistake 
When he got in the doghouse with Anr 
for most unmysterious reasons— fe? 
wives would tolerate a husband as self 
centered as Stan— he went for advice t( 
his father, a poor source indeed. Stai 
recognized and readily admitted hi; 
blunders as a husband as soon as the) 
were pointed out to him. He promised t( 

"After Stan's concession— after hi 
told her how much he loved her, a fac 
he hadn't seen fit to mention previ 
ously— Ann willingly returned to him 
Once she thought about it, she realizet 
that she didn't want her daughter to b 
deprived of a father and endure the tor 
ments of insecurity and emotional star 
vation that she had herself suffered ii 

"Stan kept his promise to treat Ann a 
a competent, intelligent wife entitled t 
companionship and his confidence. Th 
two began to dine out occasionally an( 
accept invitations from their friends a 
least once a week. Needless to say, the; 
excluded the troublemakers, Greg an( 
Ruth, from their activities. It wasn' 
difficult for Ann to abandon her role as ; 
coquette at social gatherings; she recog 
nized the shallowness and origin of he 
pointless flirtations, the inherent risk o 
falling into the trap that had locked he 
mother into loneliness and lovelessnes 
with men who cared nothing for her 
Stan then began to enjoy the fun of at 
tending parties with other couples in thi 
same age group with similar concerns; hi 
didn't need to keep a sharp eye on Am 
every minute. He and Ann assumed thei 
share of the social obligations incidents 
to the business. Ann liked wearing ; 
pretty dress to a big civic function am 
perhaps reading about the event on th 
society page. This gave her the feeling c 
importance she had so sadly lacked. 

"When Stan began to confide his bus 
ness affairs in Ann, who was we 
equipped to listen and comment wit 
understanding, he was gratified to fin 
he derived relaxation and relief in bein 
able to unbottle his worries. His enthus 
asm for spectator sports did not disajj 
pear, but at least it diminished. Ann bi 
came more tolerant of TV sports, wh( 
television wasn't forced on her for hou 
every day. ' 

"Stan received some badly neede 
education in sex, and Ann gradual 
learned to enjoy sex. She experienced tl 
first climax of her life, and sometimii 
takes the initiative now in their lovi 
making, much to Stan's pride and deligh 


ideally perhaps Ann and Stan wou 

have moved to a different communi' 
and acquired different next-door neig 
bors. This was impossible. At my su 
gestion Stan called on Greg and Rui 
one afternoon and frankly inform( 
them there was no basis for friendshj 
between the two couples, that in the 
ture he and Ann intended to st ay on th 
side of the fence and would apprecia 
their neighbors' doing the same. Gr 
;iii(i Ruth accepted his announceme 
without protest. Now there is no visit! 
back and forth, although the four < 
change polite hellos if they lia|)pen 
jiasH on the street, 

"Ann and Stun now have a marrit 
built on a Holid foundation of respe 
urKliTHlunding, mut ual ('omi)romiHeHa 
love. Tlii'ir next-door iicigliborH and ( 
fr''c-wheelitig opinions of their iiciglibiF 
have no further int<!reHt for tliern."BiP 

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A Laaies' nome journal campaign 


A look at one plan that helps youngsters flourish and parents 
smile. Why can't this happen here in America? By John Kobler 

Birgitte is an energetic young 
woman who takes enormous pride in 
her job at a big city hospital. She also 
loves her family: a handsome, am- 
bitious husband and a tow-headed 
six-year-old son. Like ever\- mother 
who ever even considered getting a 
job. Birgitte faced a painful decision 
a few months after her baby was 
born. She longed to go back to work 
she loved, and to share with her hus- 
band the sharply increased financial 
burdens of their growing family. Yet 
she needed to feel sure their little boy 
would be safe, happy and well cared 
for while she was away. 

If Birgitte had been an American 
mother, she would have had only 
two answers to her dilemma— both 
unsatisfactory', both filled with in- 
soluble problems. She could have re- 
turned to work and left her son in 
the care of a relative or baby-sitter — 
provided one could be found — for- 
ever worried because such a mother- 
substitute was, at best, unskilled and 
untrained in the demanding 'job of 
modern child care. Or, she could have 
decided not to go back to work; to 
put all of her considerable talent and 
energy into household routine, and 
to make the best of what, for her, 
would be a limited, confining, frus- 
trating life. 

Luckily for Birgitte, she is not an 
American mother. She is Danish — 
and so she faced no dilemma at all in 
choosing the way of life she and her 
husband wanted. Thanks to Den- 
mark's superb public national child- 
care program, which includes more 

In Denmark, child care at neighborhood center is considered a family birthright. 

7 hi liamsdak Jamil all of Ikcm are 
hapf)ier when liirgilte i < free to work. 

than 1 ,000 day-care centers, Birgitte's 
son, Jan Christian, is thriving on a 
daily routine of excellent care by 
trained specialists, daily companion- 
ship with other children in a warm, 
happy setting plus a home with two 
very contented parents. 

Throughout Scandinavia, and 
many other countries, the number of 
married women who work is rising 
every day. In Denmark, about half 
of all married women are now 
in the labor force. In the United 
States, there are about 10 million 
working mothers. The Scandinavian 
countries have large and excellent 
day-care programs for the children 
of these mothers. The United States 
does not. 

An American mother might find it 
hard to believe how easily Sweden, 
Denmark, Norway and Finland 
created these programs — and with 
what small official fuss. For well-run 
day-care facilities are as much an 
accepted fact of everyday life in 
Scandinavia as are public schools, 
and everyone seems to feel that they 
are just as necessary. Indeed. 
Birgitte— who is Mrs. Niels Ramsdak 
of Bagsvaerd, a small village 10 
miles from Copenhagen— would find 
the idea that a country as large and 
modern as the United States has no 
nationwide day-care program what- 
ever simply astounding. 

Birgitte is a small blonde of 31, 
whose job as a physiotherapist pays 
her 1,.5(X) kroner (about $215j a 
month. Her husband, Niels, earns the 
same wages not counting frequent 
overtime as a senior salesman in an 
auto sales agency. Jan Christian is 
tlieir only child, and Birgitte is 
arutely sensitive to the special prob- 
lems an'Vmly child i)os<?8. What en- 
abl(« her to 'devote herself to her 
l»f;spital patients five days a week, 
HfcCiire in the knowledge that Jan is 
getimg the kind u{ altcnlion and 
coii.panionship he needs, typifies the 
Danish system unrler which the coun- 

try's day-care centers were estab- 
lished. For a trifling fee, any working 
mother is supposed to be able to en- 
trust her children from the age of a 
few months to 14 years to a day-care 
center staff of dedicated, highly 
trained nurses and teachers. 

With their tradition of equality 
and independence, Danish women 
consider the right to work as precious 
as suffrage or free speech and as nat- 
ural as motherhood. But that right 
would ring hollow, they feel, if be- 
coming a mother would make it im- 
possible to work. Thus, they take the 
day- care centers for granted as the 
normal, logical arrangement of an 
enlightened society. 

"Except for two months after Jan 
was born, I have worked since the 
age of twenty-one," Birgitte says. 
"The day-care center where we first 
lived had no room for him right 
away. But I had to work — we were 
terribly poor — and so I sent him to 
stay with my mother in Jutland until 
the center could take him, which was 
about three months later. We're 
much better off today. But even if 
we were rich, I wouldn't leave the 
hospital. The work fascinates me. I 
feel committed to my patients and to 
the students I now train." 

The Ramsdaks' combined income 
is equivalent to about $5,000 a year, 
but its purchasing power in Denmark 
amounts to at least twice as much. 
It is enabling them, with the aid of 
a mortgage, to buy the six-room 
house and garden they have occupied 
since 1961. They have already paid 
for ttieir small Swedish car. 

Niels Ramsdak, a tall, taciturn 
man in his early thirties, prefers to 
bicycle the 10 miles to his office 
every morning; it helps keej) him 
trim. Me leaves at I 'M), arriving, if 
he i)ef]als hard enough, by K.liO. 
Before driving to her l)osi)ital, Bir- 
gitte watches from thedoorstei) while 
Jan trots off {t)\.\\v.hoernvhavv (kinder- 
garten; at the far end of their street. 

He moves on plump legs with joyous 
determination, a classic Scandinavian 
type with his wheat-blond hair and 
eyes as blue as the Kattegat under 
summer skies. 

The proximity of the boernehave to 
the Ramsdaks' home is not acci- 
dental. Its planners chose the avail- 
able site closest to the greatest density 
of population. Mother's convenience, 
however, is only a minor factor. The 
centers were conceived primarily for 
the benefit of the children. The Scan- 
dinavians, whose grasp of family 
problems and resourcefulness in meet- 
ing them obviously far surpass Amer- 
ican efforts along the same lines, 
consider the centers indispensable to 
a child's mental and emotional 
growth. As Jens Sisgaard, a renowned 
Danish child-guidance authority, 
puts it: 

"Above all, the children learn to 
give and take and to live harmoni- 
ously with children of their own age. 
This easy first step away from home 
for a few hours each day is of im- 
mense value, especially for an only 
child; it is a bridge between depen- 
dence in the home and the inde- 
pendence that is essential if they 
are to enter school, with pleasure 
and serenity, at the compulsory 
school age." 

As Jan crosses the threshold of the 
Bagsvaerd day -care center, he plu'Y'^s 
into a series of experiences, mental 

Learning to share, Jan and young 
friends play together with model house. 

and physical, which for the next 
eight hours keep him by turns enter- 
tained, stimulated, reflective, eager 
to discover more. There are 60 chil- 
dren all told, about equally divided 
into three age groups, each group 
under the supervision of a licensed 
teacher, a student teacher and a 
heli)er. Though carefully thought 
out, the daily i)rogram seems casual 
and impromptu, and the hand of 
authority rests lightly. The children 
shift back (continued on page 116) 


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the beautiful Jit 

Thanks for Birthday Gifts 

Q: I recently gave my four-year-old 
daughter a birthday party at home. 
Twenty-four children were here and 
brought her gifts, which we both 
thanked them for at the time. Must I 
also send each child a thank-you note ? 

A: You would not be expected to 
write a note to each child. But you 
should write, or help your daughter 
print, a little note to any child who 
sent a gift but was not able to be 
present at the party. 

Special Privilege 

Q: At a wedding reception I at- 
tended, champagne was served at the 
table reserved for the bridal party 
and parents, while at the other tables 
different wine was served. The bride's 
father excused himself from guests he 
was talking to by saying, "I must get 
back to our table. We are having real 
champagne for the bridal table alone." 
I feel that everyone at a wedding re- 
ception should be treated alike, and 
that the host's remark was insulting 
to his guests. Don't you think this 
was improper? 

A: Quite improper. 

Widow's Rings 

Q: I have been a widow for seven 
years and have always worn my 
rings. However, my wedding band 
has an orange-blossom design and is 
now very worn. Is it permissible to 
wear the engagement ring only? If 
S(). on which finger is it usually worn? 

A: If you are going to remove your 
wedding ring, I suggest that you 
wear your engagement ring on the 
right hand. Otherwise you might ap- 
pear to be newly engaged and thus 
disa)urage possilDie suitors. 


Q: AftOT being entertained at a very 
nice sit down dinner for 12, should I 
telephone our thanks the next morn- 
ing or within the week? Or is the 
mfKJern cuntom to write an informal 
note to the hf>slcs8? 

A: In the North, thanking the hostess 
as you leave i.s consiflered enough. 
However, a lelephonr; call (mayhx- 
nol the next morniru' -ifi'-r such a 
large party, hut in a da> or ho) is al- 
ways ai<ijrc'iat"l \>y the li'/stcss, If 
you know sh( h;r ;) busy life, a word 
or two on an informal note would be 
<ven more ap|)roi)ri-i'< An appre- 

ciative note is never wrong. In the 
South it is virtually a requisite. 

Dress for an Afternoon Wedding 

Q: I am a teen-age girl, and will soon 
be going to an after-five wedding. 
Would it be proper for me to wear an 
evening gown? 

A: If the wedding is to take place be- 
fore six o'clock, cocktail or dressy 
daytime dress is indicated. If a wed- 
ding takes place at six o'clock or 
after, you do wear evening dress, 
short or long. If the wedding is to be 
held in a church, inquire as to 
whether or not the denomination re- 
quests or requires head-covering and 
do wear some slight cover-up over a 
bare dress. Be sure to wear gloves. 

Executive Investigation 

Q: Are the wives of men applying for 
executive positions in large corpora- 
tions really investigated? If so. what 
does the company expect to lei'rn 
from such an investigation? 

A: Many large corporations do in- 
vestigate wives of men applying for 
executive positions and those who are 
slated for important promotions. We 
may decry this as an invasion of our 
privacy, but the (act is that it dees 
occur. Corporations are interested in 
the stability ol the marriages of the 
men who will be taking on greater re- 
sponsibility. They want to know, too, 
whether the wives will be able to 
move up the executive ladder, so to 
speak, in step with their husbands. 
Do they dress tastefully? Are their 
table manners acceptable? Have they 
tact and discretion? Is their social 
behavior beyond criticism? Does a 
cocktail or two loosen their tongues 
dangerously? Are they sufificiently 
educated to take their places grace- 
fully with their husbands should they 
rise eventually to the top? 

If a big corporation has its eye on 
your husband, you may be sure it has 
its eye on you. 

Showing the New Baby 

Q: When our baby was only six days 
old, my husband had me going one 
night to his parents' home and the 
next night to his grandparents' home 
to show them the baby. I was under 
the impression that parents and 
friends came to see the baby— not the 
other way around. Our baby is four 
months old now and we have stopped 
running to one place and another, but 
I would still like your comments. Is 
it i^roper to slay at home and wait 
until people come to see the baby, or 
should the b.iby be taken all over 
town to see th( m 

A: Friends and 
to see the baby 
ment. New mot 
S^mic hospitals 
telephone calls d 

1 lives should come 
I only by appoint- 
need much rest. 
'I even permit 
• certain hours. 

is the proper seating in the church, 
who stands in the receiving line and 
how are they placed ? The mothers of 
the bride and the groom have not re- 
married, but both fathers have. The 
father of the bride will give her away, 
but her mother has made all the 
wedding arrangements. 

A: At the church, after the father 
gives the bride away he returns to 
the seat left for him in the third pew 
on the left side of the church, where 
he will be at his own wife's side. The 
mother of the bride will occupy the 
first pew, aisle seat. 

At the reception, the two mothers 
stand alone in the receiving line. The 
fathers circulate. 

The Thoughtful Guest 

Q: How should a guest leave the bed- 
clothes the last morning of a visit? 

A: If a guest is able to make a bed, she 
could offer to do so, and ask for the 
necessary clean linen. 

If help is obviously not needed, 
she may leave the bed with the cov- 
ers thrown back to air. Or, maid or 
no maid, it would be more helpful to 
strip the bed, fold the sheets and 
pillowcases as well as the blankets, 
leaving all on top of the mattress, or 
putting the soiled linen in the ham- 
per. She should not make up the bed 
again with her soiled sheets. 

Wearing a Nurse's Pin 

Q: Please tell me on which side of the 
pocket or collar of her uniform a 
nurse should wear her professional 
pin. Are there rules about this? 

A: There seems to be no set rule 
about where to wear the pin, other 
than that it should be in a convenient 
and noticeable place. I would sug- 
gest that you follow the custom 
practiced by nurses in your hospital, 
or use your own judgment. 

Divorced Parent* . o Wedding 

Qi When Ixjth setfl < 
bride and grfx>m an 

rents of the 
•rcefl, what 

A/;'s.s Vanderbilt welcomes qucs- 
lionsfrom readers, to be answered 
in this column as space permits. 

A new l)ooklel by Amy Vanderbilt. 
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Lincoln Memorial, Washington, D 

Q: Our family income is $1,000 a month and 
my husband says we should spend a maxi- 
mum of $100 of that amount on food. But 
I'm always running short and don't seem to 
be able to provide the fare that my family, 
including two children, expects. What's 
wTong— my food allowance or my spending 

A: The U.S. family spends, on the average, 
slightly more than 18 percent of its after-tax 
dollars on food— with a higher proportion for 
lower-income brackets and a lower propor- 
tion for upper-income brackets. The propor- 
tion we spend on food, incidentally, is the 
lowest of any nation in the world. At your 
income level, the averages suggest a raise in 
your food allowance. 

Q: The number of charity appeals we are 
getting through the mail is growing every 
year. We're a charitable family and want to 
give generously to worthy causes, but we 
have no way of telling which appeals are 
legitimate and which are not, because the 
majority of solicitations we now get are from 
funds and organizations unknown to us. Is 
there any way of finding out just how much 
of our contribution would go directly to the 
beneficiaries in any given organization ? 
A: Any legitimate charitable organization 
will give you written details on its operations, 
plus an audited financial statement showing 
its administrative and other costs. Gener Jly 
speaking, the statement should show that, L.t 
a maximum, 15 to 20 percent of funds col- 
lected go for administrative costs. Perfectly 
reputable organizations that are just starting 
out raising funds may spend more on ad- 
ministrative costs until their campaign is 
well established— at which point the over- 
head costs would be lowered. Some outstand- 
ing charities manage to hold these costs to as 
little as 2 percent, with the rest going directly 
to the beneficiaries. 

Q: We have just counted up all our family 
assets (money in bank accounts, the current 
value of our insurance policies and pension 
plans, market value of our stocks and bonds 
and cash on handj and all our family debts 
(mortgage outstanding on the house, unpaid 
charge accounts, bills, installment debt on 
the car and kitchen equipment and a bank 
loan J. We find that we have $5 in assets for 
every $1 of debt. How does this compare with 
other American families? 
A: Quite favorably. The average U.S. house- 
hold nas $4.23 in financial assets for every $1 
of pers^mal debt. And your asset-to-debt ratio 
wfjuld be even brighter if you also counted in 
the equity you now have in your home and 
your car, and the market value of all your 
other belongings. 

Q: My wife and I seem to be headed ff)r a 
divorce and are arguing, among other things, 
■d\x)Ut the strictly financial facts. How much 
do divorce lawyers charge today? What are 
the traditional alimony arrangenunts and 
other financial consideralifjns? 

A: If yon are in the $]0,(XX) $20,fXy) income 
range, you can count on legal fees alone run- 
ning between $70) and $2,r/K) fr^r each 
lawyer— d(;pending on how difficult if is to 
rejich an agreement on childnm, property, 
alimony— but assuming a miniiiiurn of lfg;il 



negotiation. If the case goes into court, these 
sums could soar much higher. 

Although there are no hard rules on ali- 
mony, the husband typically pays anywhere 
from 20 to 50 percent of his salary— depend- 
ing on the number of children, the health of 
the wife and children, whether the wife is 
working and the size of her outside financial 
resources. Frequently, also, there is an es- 
calator clause raising the amount of alimony 
if the husband's salary rises in the future. 

As for other financial arrangements, the 
family house and car usually go to the wife, 
and jointly owned property (including real 
estate, bank accounts, securities) is divided 
50-50. Generally, the wife remains benefici:.ry 
of the husband's insurance till she remarries. 

The divorce contract may also stipulate 
that the husband maintain medical insurance 
for his ex-wife and children. 

Q: With four growing children in the family, 
our clothing costs are really skyrocketing. 
What are the best ways to save money in 
buying clothes? 

A: Buying off-season alone— bathing suits 
this August and September and ski clothes 
next April— can save you as much as 30-50 
percent. Plan ahead what items of clothing 
you'll need during the year and deliberately 
schedule your buying for off-season months. 

Buying in quantity can save you 10-30 
percent— particularly socks, stockings and 
items offered at "3 for X dollars." 

You also can save by buying standard 
sizes such as "small," "medium" or "large"— 
instead of more precise sizes— and by choos- 
ing simple, standard styles over styles offering 
"extras" such as fur trim or fancy belts. 

If you follow these basic rules, you'll prob- 
ably save hundreds of dollars over the year 
in clothing costs. 

Q: I am six months pregnant and intend to 
stop working a month before my baby is due. 
My employer has just informed me that com- 
pany policy forbids re-hiring me later— even 
though I want and will need to go back to 
work after my baby is born. I think this is 
terribly unfair! Is there anything I can do? 

A: You can fih? a complaint now with the 
ICqual Mmplfjyment Opportunity Commis- 
sion in Washingt(jn on the grounds of job dis- 
crimination—and let your company person- 
nel (jfficcr knrjw you are fihng the complaint. 
The KliOC will s(;nd an investigator to dis- 

By Sylvia Porter 

CUSS the matter with you and your employer. 
If the investigation reveals that your com- 
pany's policy on re-hiring after childbirth 
differs from its policies covering male em- 
ployees during sustained illnesses or convales- 
cence, your employer will be urged to change 
the practices. If your employer refuses, the 
EEOC will turn the matter over to the Justice 
Department which will go to bat for you if 
you take your case to court. 

Thousands of American women are in a 
predicament similar to yours. What's most 
significant is that this past spring the EEOC 
ruled that such arbitrary recall policies are in 
violation of Title VII of the Civil Rights law 
forbidding discrimination on the basis of sex 
as well as race. The EEOC agrees that an 
employer retains the right to decide at which 
date during pregnancy a female employee 
must stop working, but declares that he has 
no right to ban a new mother from returning 
to her old job— unless there are also compar- 
able "sick leave' ' restrictions for male workers. 

Q: We are considering putting a recent in- 
heritance of $25,000 in an oil painting. We 
are not experts on art, but the way art prices 
are soaring these days, we figure we could 
easily double our investment jn the next 10 
years. What do you think? 
A: It's true that art prices are soaring all 
over the world and that the price rises are 
outpacing the rises in many other forms of 
investment. Just since 1960, art prices have 
more than doubled, and the trend is almost 
certain to continue. But, not all paintings and 
not all artists' works are rising in value. Some 
have actually dropped in recent years: the 
abstract expressionists, for example. Others 
are only crawling upward. 

My advice to you, as amateurs, is to invest 
a lot of time and thought in art before you 
make any sizable purchase, and, until you 
are quaUfied to judge trends in the highly 
complex art market, build your nest egg on 
a more familiar foundation. 

Q: We are eager to buy a house costing 
$30,000. Our annual income is $12,000. At 
this level, can we afford our "dream house"? 
A: By the tra- 
ditional rules, 
you can afford 
to pay 2-2^2 
times your an- 
nual family in- 
come for a 
house. You can 
afford more if 
you have a big 
cushion of sav- 
ings, a small 
family, low 
regular living 
expenses and 
expect your in- 
come to rise 
steadily. You 

should count on paying less than 2^2 times 
your yearly income if your down payment 
is minimal, if your savings are small, if you 
have heavy living expenses and installment 

Miss I'orter welcomes questions jroni readers. 
Those of (leneral interest will he answered iti 
this column as space /)ermits. 




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K.()»<OMICt lABonA''-!' 

Wish You Were Here 

Will Marion Javits Move the 
White House to New York? 

By Barbara Walters 

of N.B.C.'s Tiuhiv Show 

Is there somebody more cautious 
and convention-bound than a can- 
didate for high political office? Yes, 
there is: the candidate's wife, espe- 
cially if her husband is being seriously 
mentioned for the White House. So 
I found it refreshing to be talking to 
Marion Javits, wife of the senior 
senator (Republican) from New 
York, because her views about Wash- 
ington, the poetical life and politi- 
cians' wives sounded positively un- 
constitutional to me. 

To begin with, Mrs. Javits, who is 
young and unusually attractive, sim- 
ply doesn't like the capital city. 
F'urthermore, her dislike is based on 
conviction as well as experience. 
Twice since her husband became 
senator in 1957 she has tried to live 
there. Twice she has reaffirmed her 
decision not to. "It's a provincial 
city," she told me. "I love the biy 
city. Just last week I took a long 
walk with two friends and looked at 
Lincoln Center, and I was just over- 
come with pride. I don't feel that 
way in Washington. And I don't 
agree, by the way, with the idea of 
locating the Kennedy Center in 
Washington. I'm not for it at all. 
We have nothing to fill it with. Here 
we do." 


ilor does Mrs. Javits think that 
Washington women are particularly 
adept at filling their husbands' lives. 
"You know, a lot of men in public 
life got married when they were in 
college," she said, "and their wives 
never grew with them in interests, 
in sophistication, in personal de- 

"How about the social life in Wash- 
ington?" I asked her. "There's plenty 
of it. Do you like it?" 

"No," she replied without hesita- 
tion. "I don't enjoy cocktail parties 
and receptions. I rarely go to them, 
here or anywhere. I enjoy small 
dinner parties where you talk to 

"But don't you have to entertain 
on a large scale even in New York? 
Don't you have an obligation to 
bring people your husband should 
meet into your home?" 

"The answer to both your ques- 
tions is no," .said Mrs. Javits. "We're 
not .seducing people on a level of buy 
and sell. We do not use our house in 
a semibusiness way. If we have 
business gatherings in the house, we 
do it quite directly, with meetings, 
and everyone knows they are just 

"Do you enjoy the company of 
politicians?" I asked. 

"I enjoy real people," she answered 
carefully. "You have to be selective 
about people. As, for instance, I en- 
joy adorn but not all of them. 
Oeativc pe<iple are usually tlie most 
interesting, successful or not. And 
there arc creative people among 
politicianH. If I'm with the ones who 
aren't creulive, I'm impatient and 

closed away. Which is one of the 
reasons, I suppose, that I don't live 
in Washington. 

"There are other, more important 
factors, though. The women who are 
there, half of them have chosen to be 
with their husbands and have, I be- 
lieve, neglected their children. Many 
of them have left their children be- 
hind at private schools. I would 
never do that. 

"And there's still another thing. 
It's very difficult for a woman to 
make a life for herself in Washington. 
My husband has always been, it 
seems, even busier than a lot of men 
in politics. When he works he's so ab- 
sorbed. He's always worked late 
hours. I enjoy late-night living. And 
now, when my husband finds he has a 
little free time (he flies back and forth 
to Washington and makes other trips 
about three times a week ), we can go 
for a late dinner. Usually to 'Twenty- 
one,' where we are not treated like 
glass; where the food is wonderful; 
and where you can go late. There are 
no such restaurants in Washington. 

"I am not a 'club' person. That's 
not a life I have any compatibility 
with. I don't play golf or tennis ot 
cards. That's not me. I love the the- 
ater and learning languages and, well, 
a creative life, I suppose." 

I said: "There's talk of Mr. Javits 
running for Vice President. Are you 

She smiled. "To quote my hus- 
band," she said, "'nobody ever runs 
for Vice President.' But, seriously . . . 
I know you want me to be serious: I 
think the Senator has reached the 
summit of his career. If he runs for 
higher office, it will just be one more, 
well, just an addition. I don't know 
that it will mean that much more to 
us. I know that he enormously enjoys 
the work he does. I suppose it's like a 
good actress who has been that all her 
life, and then her name is in lights. 
That just means it's more so. It really 
doesn't change what you are." 

I wondered, though, if it would 
change what Mrs. Javits is. Could she 
really go on being the maverick many 
people in Washington consider her? 
Could she remain "unorthodox," as 
she terms herself? Could the sena- 
tor's wife who's always insisted on 
self-expre.ssion, who tried for a film 
career, produced olT-Broadway plays, 
publicly admitted having five and a 
half years of psychoanalysis to "dis- 
till and clarify" her personality find 
happiness in the White House? 

Or w o u 1 d 
she, m a y b e , 
m o \' e t h e 
White H ouse 
to New York? 
As I left her, 1 
answered this 
last (|uestion 
myself: \V,ll, 
I thought, / l»l 
Khr would if xlic 
could. K N D 



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' Surgeon £:nermis. The Vlayo Cllinic 

My '.VI fe liaii six oiniuren. jmt to we ire 
^andpamns to 10. We aiw^s eaijoyet beeont- 
ing parents. Afte- aiL eEvervone aiive liait to ht 
bnm. and I beiie».e x nouid mi ax md 

enioy preaiiinc;/ m. a. 

Ai tbe same tunc I nave always beiieved in 
uiai care froiu concepnon ttrrougb birth, and 
cnminuing^ medical oiteraon tor motber and in- 
fant. P'^gnancy is a senous business. TTns has 
aiwayj aeen .rufc and today it is O'ct truer, for 
mucti 7f H research leils its 'hia rhe mne mvnths nr 
the woma and 'he nrsi lH inomhs oj Hie are even- 
more import ant than 

icm women deserve the most un-to-date facrs. 

It IS nor nT>' mention :o ^rciie r'eirs. Vly vife: 
aways ;2iioyea arearanir/. She rode ftorsebacfc 
aaasi we went oancing almost all rhm iiph her T^re^ 
nmiczes. Gokss some spe^fic medical omdirioir 

" noihershoui n 

- -Uid acivity .n- 
3e an assei or a liamiiiy to you 

i^the same nmeL L would say: 
Do nvitr ■ ~ lo 

dnae ir t 

.i oirec- 
I tierbxDy. We used: 
mo a 
^ ine5~ 


•i n onigs 

- he 


Leant ail rm ran 

thedm'ywuhmiK home the bundie tram rhelius- 
piial. bm mne nnomhs bfejore. ilie e^Is how rtesv 
discoveries oan preaem needles miscama^ and 
preniaiure birrhs. On Sanies' F. Yailesitdls whsa" 
you can do to watch, listen and hean .-our doctor 
inyourchiid'- rirst ycirjry^ranaa raif. Inborn 
dea'cEis. for axampie. air v ery dariy — if dis- 
co vereL many can now be iteapesL 

The (atitors of ttic JBmmai hsare: pnor the must: 
ad\'ancsd knowlesiae into these .Hnedes. C csr- 
nestlv '■ectTmrnend thai vou nsid hem wnh cja^ 

"le iesx VIomtTs ro +sve ''inr Isayi 

3v _jis ?. :heva4_eh 

Nfeybetheastroiosisis ^Herrghr. VtlBAhcitrArer 
make a iifiFereics when your child 's borrr. Some 
soentisis vno ^aia hai the dei ^eems "noicii.- 
Lous andinuonsetiuential" arenow admntingrthsa 
there arc trends that t avoj" chnuren born ini cef- 
tam months. Ql" course ir really isir't asirnitig\ 
And t sn : theday omomeit ai'^nrrh :hai makes> 
the oiffesTaicE. It iS rather that cartain >i;i»rs Lri" 
presnancy and im"»mcy w better jrcBataMr ssatsans 
if the yesir. 

Cm vou noUy qinpoinr the best time to cnn- 
; - ' inld" rnuredibieas 't sesnn. 

a. Aisn ^luuies. j.nermtt ^-er^'- 

thint mm comoiicaiions ji ircinTdiitr.' :o [.Q. s 
oj'^cniluren. ail tend to a^es. It icsms to Teoeter 
in almost livery resoeci to be prngnam m the wra- 
ter anu ^ nv n the >ummer. XndiF 

you T 'm t. 'he -taiiistiti essn 

ti: .1 in :iepiemDer or 

! ... ii lunc. 

I ..-.'Br imu neason whaxiswrrta jjcr women f 

SU. ll' 

tho . iif- 

tfcri.:i- . , .rc 

small, lim the tiiManuting. thing is huwcan<»tuni 


'htsTs irc II tiutic? natchmi; 

' n ihe 
. nuuh 
ollv ^Men y*iu con* 

■ . :> :i..iifc nil inlv >n 'he 

i_jTiiest Smes- bur aisor in- 'fcnttenti ^vrvia^ 
Russia. One vai -mide ' vnertt 

vimer a^rns in rune . . riv * r' 

badnes bunn ini the ^jmtE sstll luktSi 

These sttuhcs covenst n mmu rmmiiej: . 
jII.'JOKiI schooicniiuren. (l.'.lOKrt '-ciflejs ont ami-er- 
sity -iiuients. ". JOW ainL ~ •- 
iaoKen. an Jirrhuaj s m .. .. .niuren. 

acnd:taund thm those bran in thc-wraier vesEcttie 
most -TamdEd. One im-esnraaor. (TTaaraiat: 

ctrHecret birrh rata m -l?: .10101 esn-tissr 

\Tr the atuunm-^vinier tail' oa rtieyeaiTaanti tmrn 
in the snrmc^ummer haiff 

lirall anrress. i inisrbe^sadriiarrheotveTOil! 
bjirhrme n he ^mteu ' mm Tiimtfr 

:o numh. r"ie mrhrtui . _ i tie vimes' 

jaaa. an m the summer. -E2tt2nni» is n^ Tram' n 
Se^nemiier. 'ii he ccul^t mmuiauun maua 
ha^«^m)rBsun^ner~"n^•hua\^^KmJeL 3ui i -iumtu; 
haa'e '■■ - 

twesn . . 

lugh Tiuin s imy x nusiuii a^-er . : jKtssn. 

hneiliisnta s ran the ani^^ rbtiuir ttm: ^sun^ 
sBssanal vaaraxtons. Qn TFicsidure fii Ihi^is ii~ 
the Lra\er5iiy n ?*n'- uaieai urrtr 

recoros ana ii^crnvrr mm n 

limuai" UX5 nn -InnaiTis. ^Wiitc 

ohuurcn vTih cii.i ..■ ..; ; '.aaics v^se mm 

Iff Dttsmbe; lianiarA ant NWotSr. Mimfousm 
air niai tearr disease i ■ > ■ ' - 

C. ■nrrh "Pf:im5 


Cle:; ' ...... ...... > L 1.,' 

iiahKs. Hie mun^ism rnae n ¥ani baniio.^waki' 
^vj^ n [DteamtteThafcbesi 
A, .niiunsi vfth acm^BsniBi 


' .1.. iw"- .iiiiuimta uTi mimMr- 

drtv consistent, h^ir miama. 'wn m'vstii^oiT .a: 

rhe Liin-ersiiv 'ii >h i" ■■ n-.- 

iV/eti he iu»n>iul ' 

'vr . . ■ 

III Ihe lOll ticrc i usu i mtu 
lu.i .ikiM ham ui ,fminnu i 

"Then this marvelous thing happened: 

the pain was gone!" 

"My headaches come from tension or exhaustion," Mrs. 
Frances Cipriano told us. "With four children, at times there's 
a steady pace— trying to make all the hours fit into the day. 

"I remember trying Excedrin- about two years ago. I took 
some, and then this marvelous thing happened: the pain was 

"So I've been using it ever since. When I feel a headache 

coming on, I just reach for the Excedrin and go on about my 
work, I'm not even aware of the pain going away. . . all of a 
sudden I feel just great!" 

If you want fast and thorough pain relief, try Excedrin. 
Tablet for tablet, it's 50% stronger than aspirin for relief of 
headache pain. 

Excedrin analgesic tablets— ^Ae extra-strength pain relieverl^ 

© 1966 Bristol-Myers Company 


uneventful pregnancy and a full-term 
baby. The third month of pregnancy is 
the most dangerous one for the baby. 
It's the period when most miscarriages 
occur. This fact can be matched up 
nicely with another statistic: There are 
fewer miscarriages in December than in 
any other month. In fact, all the winter 
months are low points for miscarriages. 
Therefore, if you arrange it so that the 
risky third month in the life of the fetus 
falls in the winter, you may well be im- 
pro%nng your chances of a full-term baby. 

The baby's brain and nervous system 
develop very early in the pregnancy. 
Some authorities say that Americans 
tend to eat more balanced meals in the 
winter than in summer. If the air is crisp 
and cold, you're not going to settle for a 
cookie and a soda at lunchtime. You're 
more likely to get out the leftover roast 
beef and make a hefty sandwich, full of 
protein. And good nutrition is more im- 
portant in the early months of preg- 
nancy than in the later months. By the 
end of the third month, the baby is prac- 
tically complete, with all his organs and 
body systems formed "^rom then on, he 
just grows and gains weight. 

Drs. Hilda Knobloch and Benjamin 
Pasamanick, who have conducted ex- 
tensive studies on mental retardation 
and its relationship to the seasons, dis- 
covered that when there is an especially 
hot summer, there are more retarded 
children born the following spring. That 
crucial first month when the brain is 
developing— it's better for this month 
not to coincide with a heat wave. 
Toxemia, bleeding and other complica- 
tions of pregnancy rise with the tempera- 
ture. These conditions are often asso- 
ciated with premature babies, many of 
whom do not survive. Also, summer preg- 
nancies produce more stillborn babies. 

Once the baby is safely born, the sea- 
son of the year can still influence his 
fate. More babies die in the first month 
of life in the wintertime; in June, July 
and .August, by contrast, the death rate 
for newborn babies is at its lowest. 

In short, the mother-to-be who plays 
it cool is better off all around. 

The season of the year is not the only 
time factor to take into consideration 
when you're planning your family. If 
it's your first baby, the length of time 
you've been married and your age are 
also important. Dr. Alan F. Gutt- 
macher, president of Planned Parent- 
hood-World Population, has this advice 
for young couples: "Don't be in a hurry 
to have a baby. Be sure first to complete 
all the education you both desire. And 
first get adjusted to one another." 

That doenn't mean you should post- 
pone the first baby until you have a and a car that's paid for. The 
Amerif-an Medical Association's Com- 
mittfte on Human Reproduction says, 
"When the couple is over 20 years of 
age, pf^Htponement of first pregnancy 
should UDually not exceed a period of 
two years in order that jire-exlHling but 
unidentified infertility problems may be 
unmanked while the couple still has 
youth on their side. When the wife m 
over ;jO, p'«tp()nemeril of a desired \>n^- 
nancy for more than ;i few months is 

It ha« long \iii-n recf^gnized that 
mothers over 3'* run far more rink hav- 
ing children who are mentally reiarfled. 
One study showM the riwk is alrnoxt three 
timJ-H greater than for mothern in t^<. 

25-to-34 age bracket. Teen-age mothers 
run a somewhat greater risk of having 
premature babies who may be retarded. 
With each successive child, these risks 
increase. A young mother who bears two 
children before she is 20 assumes six 
times as great a risk that the second one 
will be defective as does the mother 
whose second child comes after she is 
well into her 20's. However, at any age, 
the second child is more of a risk than the 
first. And the risk in general goes up 
with each child. 

Spacing is important, too. When the 
babies are only a year apart, there are 
more complications of pregnancy, more 
premature babies, and more babies who 
do not live. On average, a full two years 
between babies seems to be needed to 
produce the healthiest children. 

And, finally, there comes a time when 
the question is not when you should 
have a baby, but if. According to some 
studies, the risk of mental retardation 
for the third and fourth child is greater 
than for the first and second. With the 
fifth pregnancy, that risk doubles. And 
with six or more children, even though 
a mother is still under 35, the risk is 
three to five times as great. 

In fact, the idyll of a houseful of 
healthy, strong children has been at- 
tacked as a myth in a number of recent 
studies. One shows that the larger the 
family, the smaller the children in height, 
weight and chest circumference. And 
the larger the family, the lower their 
scores on memory and I.Q. tests. This 
general tendency was not influenced by 
the educational level of the family. One 
investigator. Dr. Wagner H. Bridger of 
New York, says that he finds the most 
vigorous children come from small fami- 
lies with a large time span between births. 

In short, medically speaking, there is 
an ideal time to have babies, and an 
ideal time to stop. 

Lois R. Chevalier, senior edi'.or. Ladies' 
Home Journal, is a former editor of 
Medical World News. 

By Virginia Apgar, M.D. 

When do you begin taking care of 
your baby? 

It may sound strange, but the answer 
is: As soon as you're married. Don^t mis- 
understand me. I am not assuming that 
all brides "had to get married," as the 
expression goes. I mean that all women 
who are living with their husbands could 
possibly be pregnant. Pregnancy does 
not begin when you miss your first men- 
strual period. It begins about two im- 
portant weeks before that. No married 
woman can be sure she is not pregnant 
except during her menstrual period and 
part of the following week. 

Back in the old days, women didn't 
"bother the doctor" until they were al- 
ready two and a half months along. But 
we now know that by the end of the 
third month the baby is completely 
formed. He has a brain, a heart that 
beats. He is either off to a good start - 
or he iHn'l. Thai's why mon- and more 
'loctors are now treating all marri<'(l 
women as if they were |)regnarit, at least 
during the last two-thirds of i.he men- 
•itrual cycle, Kverythirig they do takes 
into consideration the baby-t hat-miglit- 
\)f, becauw, if that baby really in, \\f in 
III I III- rri'iil r rii' i;il weeks of his life. 

Let me say, right at the start, that 93 
percent of all babies are born perfectly 
normal and healthy. That means you 
have better than a nine-to-one chance 
that none of the mishaps to be discussed 
here will happen to your baby. However, 
doctors are concerned about the 7 per- 
cent of babies who do have birth defects. 
And mothers need to know a great deal 
more about everything that's being 
done — and can be done — to prevent 
these serious problems. 

Teratology, the study of ^birth de- 
fects, is one of the most rapidly expand- 
ing fields of medicine today. Private 
agencies like the National Foundation- 
March of Dimes as well as the Federal 
Government are pouring millions into 
research in this field. New knowledge is 
coming to light, month by month, and it 
all points to the vital importance of 
those first few weeks when the baby is 
actually being formed. This realization 
is revolutionizing the thinking of doc- 
tors. And it will soon change many every- 
day aspects of women's lives. 

For example, when the mobile X-ray 
unit comes to your community, you 
won't rush up for your miniature chest 
plate. Not without looking at your calen- 
dar first. And if you're smart, you won't 
have other diagnostic X-rays either, ex- 
cept during the first third of your men- 
strual cycle. If your family doctor needs 
to X-ray you, be sure to tell him the date 
of your last menstrual period; there's 
no use exposing your baby-that-might- 
be unnecessarily. 

Indiscriminate self-dosing from the 
family medicine chest will be cut down, 
too, because we already know that some 
drugs can damage unborn babies. Unfor- 
tunately, we do not know enough about 
which drugs can harm babies at what 
stages of development. If we could pin- 
point this we could say you should avoid 
a particular kind of drug during a par- 
ticular week or two of your pregnancy. 

You may ask why scientists can't test 
drugs on animals and find out which are 
harmful in pregnancy. I can answer that 
best by telling you about an experiment 
that two doctors tried with rhesus mon- 
keys. This particular animal reacts phys- 
iologically very much like man, so Drs. 
R. Behrman and Jerold F. Lucey tried 
mating rhesus monkeys and giving them 
small regular doses of thalidomide, 
which produces marked deformities in 
human infants. They expected to get 
similar results in the monkeys, but, in- 
stead, not one of the 44 animals had any 
babies at all. When given in this fashion, 
the drug that produces deformities in 
humans turned out to be a birth-control 
pill for rhesus monkeys. 

Even though testing with animals is 
inconclusive, doctors who treat pregnant 
women are more and more suspicious of 
everything in the medicine chest. They 
have found that some of the most com- 
mon medicines can produce defects in 
animals aspirin, antihistamines, anti- 
nausea drugs, laxatives, nasal decon- 
gestants, even caffeine. We know that 
animals and humans often react differ- 
ently, yet that may not always hold 
true. I believe most women would en- 
dure a stuffy, a headache, or even a 
little nausea, rather than take a chance. 

In the possibly harmful category are 
many of (he trarujuilizers that some 
people take casually. Reserpine(Serpasil ) 
lias \m-\\ shown in animal experiments 
to increaw infant mortality. When rats 
are given meprobamate( Miltown, Kqua- 
nih, their offspring are slow learners. 

There are some drugs that are 'even 
more definitely in the potentially harm- 
ful category. They are known to have 
caused damage or even death to unborn 
babies at least on rare occasions. Iodides, 
which are commonly used in cough medi- 
cines, can produce goiters in babies he- 
fore they are born. These babies whose 
thyroids get mixed up may also be men- 
tally retarded. The long-acting sulfa 
drugs prescribed for some stubborn in- 
fections can produce nerve deafness in 
the unborn child. We also know that 
the embryo cannot excrete tetracycliae. 
If this common antibiotic is given to the 
mother, it is deposited in the bones of 
the baby, where it may slow down 
growth. And it can also cause discolora- 
tion of his teeth. Chloramphenicol, an- 
other antibiotic, can cause jaundice and 
possible brain damage. Excessive 
amounts of vitamin K can have the 
same effect, and excessive vitamin D 
may cause bone damage. 

Of course, we must strike a common- 
sense balance between caution and the 
need to treat an illness. However, I 
think the time is rapidly coming when 
any woman planning to have children 
will take no more medicine than is nec- 
essary to preserve her life or health. 

The other broad category of threats 
to unborn babies is infections. Unfortu- 
nately, you cannot say of them as you 
can sometimes say of medicines: No, 
thanks, I'm not having any. But every 
day we are learning more about these 
infections, and ways will probably be 
found to circumvent their damage. 

The classic example is rubella, or Ger- 
man measles. Once its harmful effect was 
clearly proved and the virus identified, 
scientists began working on a vaccine. 
They are making great progress, and 
within a year or two this threat to the 
unborn baby or fetus can be eliminated. 
But we keep finding others. Just this 
past winter a doctor and a psychologist 
in Victoria, Australia, came out with the 
startling idea that links hepatitis in the 
mother and the birth of Mongoloid 
babies. Dr. Allan StoUer and R. D. Coll- 
man compared the number of these de- 
fective babies born in Melbourne with 
the numbers of cases of infectious hepa- 
titis nine months earlier. Every time the 
incidence of hepatitis rose, the number 
of Mongoloids went up, too. 

The teratologists' job is like putting 
together a huge jigsaw puzzle. One piece 
we have in hand is the fact that older 
mothers are more likely to have Mon- 
goloids. How does that fit in with the 
hepatitis? Is the ovum of the older 
mother more vulnerable to attack by the 
hepatitis virus? Or is it possible that the 
older mother has accumulated a high 
level of antibodies so that she can "carry" 
the virus without having symptoms of 
the disease? These are only some of the 
questions that will have to be answered. 

The infection that produces no symp- 
toms in the mother is a rare but insidi- 
ous threat to the fetus. An example is 
the cytomegalovirus. It may cause mild 
symptoms like those of a cold, or no 
symi)t<)ms at all. But if the mother hap- 
pens to get the virus and passes it on to 
her unborn baby, the child may be born 
with jaundice, an enlarged liver, and 
possible brain damage. 

Another Hiicnt t hreat to t he baby is an 
organism called Toxoidaxmn gondii. 
Adult humans, cats, dogs, hamsters and 
pigeons sometimes carry this organism 
without its doing them any harm. Hut 
toxoplasmosis in the fetus (conlinuid) 

rhe Hanes leg 
s the Great Leg. 

Mischievous. Marvelous. Completely 
adaptable. Standing poised amid 
cheering crowds. Or scampering off on its 
own. The Hanes Leg. Kicking up its 
heels in a new glow of color: "Bright Leaf." 
Light-hearted. Spontaneous. Purposely 
fickle. It warms up to every color in 
your wardrobe. Tops things off with a 
short new welt that won't show off 
under short new skirts. And this is just 
one of our bright ideas. Come see the rest 
of the Hanes Leg Collection. And plan 
on a spree. After all, half of you is leg. 

Great legs deserve// 

others need them. 


oeeasiflDally produces ack and damaged 
babies. They are bom jaundiced, have a 
fever and a rash, and a low red blood 
ceil count- If : - '"ill 
BsaaHv have da- 


^ ver> ir '.h 
-J5 and ". 'I'k 
- -g ST izii- momexiL. But 
' : : _;>measles problem just 
a few yeais ago. Dr. John L. Sever, a 
viroJogisi and pediatrician of the 5ta3 of 
the Xataonal Instirutes of Health, has 
just developed a blood test that shows 
whether a mother-to-be has either of 
these inferricms. From this test he can 
evai predict whether the injur\- to the 
baby wDl be slight or great. Vaednation 
or treatment of the mother to dear up 
the infections may someday be posable. 

It is a little bit easier to deal with the 
te^togenic diseases that do cause symp- 
toms because you can at least see the 
danger. Any woman who might be preg- 
nant shotild take great pains to avoid 
exposure to all infections. If she has to 
ntirse her own chSdrHi through any of 
the common childhood diseases, she 
should take ^jedal care to avoid preg- 
nancy tmtil she is certain that she has 
missed infection herseU. 

Doctors have recently gained a new 
respect for eeraoD iDieeticRis 4^ the 
macoos membrane sidi as eold sores. 

are caused by a eomBMn vires 
called herpes simples, whidi can also in- 
fect the binh ctanal. Many peof^ have 
had cold sores and have developed anti- 
bodies to the virus. But oecasioDallj- a 
baby will fail to get these antibodi^ 
from his mother. These may be pieaat- 
vxre babies, or babies whose mothers 
did not have a high leveJ of antibodies. 
Anytray, h«-pes amplex is a minor mat- 
ter for a grown-up, but for a newborn 
baby it may be disastrous. It can cause 
hemorrhaging, convulsions, and death. 
No one knows whether the baby can get 
the vims before birth. It seem? tt^:'-'? 
likely that he gets it as he is be: . 
or shortly thereafter. So, if you i.: - • t ^ - 
nant and you have any reason to sus- 
pect you have the herpes amplex virus, 
alert your doctor. 

Most of these infectious hazards sound 
pretty grim, but, fortunately, they do 
not occur often. In fact they affect only 
a fraction of one percent of newborn 
babies. The pregnane;- problf- 
comeE up more freqfiiently is - 
and tfcf ■ • y reeogn:' 

treatm- A"ben yot- 

takes yoiii i>iOud- pressure 
aaks yaa if your ankles faa~ 
is cbecking for the eartj- ^ 
t/iMWM It usually ec«r-;» 
ter monthn of pregr. is fre- 

quently aasodated wit: . ^-e births. 


'bnetricians are ^ ■ - 
aware of another oor- 
that baa caused tbe loic . 
Aeoordinc to Dr. Lake Gi. 
ton L>-inc-In Ho^ntal. there . 
MOO TMdkm 
United Sute» e\ < 

8,000 TTi'-'l.ri*^* r-. 

ti-. ■ 

P* ' • ■ritfr Wtf 

€»T •:.■>/■< 

the oi> 




to normal size. If the inoompetent eorix 
is diseovered after eocceptaoD, the sur- 
geon may just dose it up with a fe^ 
stiicbes that can be released at the timr 
of delivery. 

A couple of >-eare ago. Dr. R ■ : 
Masland, director of the NatiMia. 
tute of Xeurologie Diseases and r 
ness, said, "America does not tak^ 
nanc>- seriously enou^a-" Since tneEi 
there has been a lot of improvement. To- 
day, much is happening on bdiaK of 
mothers and babies. Whether your baby 
gets the best poss3^ chance dependB 
partly on you. 

You have to eserdse restnint; about 
noedicines and take every reaBonabte 
care to avoid inf ecTaons. And yoa have to 
select a qualified doctor and go to hmn 
early and regalariy. Last of an, yoa have 
to make some p«ntBd inqoirieB about 
the hospital whoe yon haw your baby. 
Make sure that it is accredited by the 
Joint Commisaan on Aecreditatian at 
Hospitals. If posable, choose a hwBpital 
where the ane^iiesa in the delivay 
room is given by a i^iyaciam rather than 
a nurse, and onae where there b a re- 
liable blood bank. And. if poasQife, 
choose a hospital wisere there k a traiin- 
ing program in obsteitgies so that there 
are readent ph^siciaias present in case 
your own doctor is detained. 

VirssMM Afgtur, MJ)^ disrecHar, Diximc 
of Ck mfe m i Ul MalfarmatimB Raearch. 

is jibe oreffitar Ae Apgaar Sean, a Chfepi- 
Ufi for ttfrfwrir dsmftmsis of seruii. 
eamsemi/Bl nd tmrnm a U iim Ifce neariorr.. 

By Phyllis Wright, VI, D, 

Years ... ■ . 

eh£:- •- - 
the ■ 

mo: - ■ ■ - 

^c.— . • - _ 

a ii Oil 


ing ir.. ...:. :- 

death rate. Most 
this. Certainly o:ii:r: 
What has been much 

immediate ca- 
tor"? ' • • • :. 

to hi.:. - r. 

If you ba-v* a fi- 

pietnre ea: 



atncs IS 




to a:r: 

it hti.' 

T-d job. 
- "■bam 
- way 
^ar if 
i-t a 

doctor. Tk- 
the fadb: 
had to be <- 
for him tc< 
ajoond tb^ 

at birth. 1 V. 
jmt beeaI:^^ 
not quite ~ 
faaby oulg: 
jamiidicBd ^ 
proHem t:: ~ 
as Bh-faloc.i 
virns T!if€>rr 


:3r to 

Once the : 

from mSec^- 
''ffore deil:' 


-if^n win ateo ttK 


^ ■ . . 1 1 1 -Is ^ 


move attBL' 

taon of wfcr 


- aiad 

faom the ' 

_ per- 

period. Dc' 

aiQ' faofary - 

T'Tematon-- - 


^ae moKt:.: 

of iHtuglW** WT" . 


we've aSsc' 


tnily pREL^ 

- ^«rarf"j • 

^: ."Owing e. 


J6cted to ^ 


fai^ff^f op to 

After Ik 


serw the 

Huteasfor t . 

" . jr. H-T 


Modess . . . .^^^eea^^'^^^ 


Every month functional menstrual dis- 
tress iiad Donna feeling miserable. Now 
she just takes Mi dol and goes her way in 
comfort because Midol tablets contain. 

• An exclusive anti-spasmodic that 
helps Stop Cramping . . . 

• Medically-approved ingredients that 
Relieve Headache, Low Backache . . . 
Calm Jumpy Nerves . . . 


choice. You'll take with you a written 
record of pertinent facts about your 
pregnancy: the date of your last men- 
strual period, a list of any medications 
you may have been taking, including 
even nonprescription drugs, a notation 
about any infections you may have had, 
such as flu or cold sores. You'll tell him 
that your obstetrician will let him know 
when the baby is born, so that he can 
come to the hospital within the first 24 
hours of the baby's life — or at once if 
there is any emergency. 

The pediatrician, in turn, may have 
some pointers to give you. Most child 
specialists have preferences about for- 
mulas, kinds of nursing bottles, skin 
preparations, even such matters as dia- 
per services. You may as well stock up 
the kinds of things he wants you to have. 

You will also tell your obstetrician 
about arrangements with the baby's 
doctor, and you will ask him to notify 
the pediatrician when the baby is born. 

Finally, there is one particular way 
for you personally to help your baby 
through the crucial period of birth. I 
am not suggesting that you be a com- 
plete stoic about the pain of childbirth, 
but I do believe that women of some 
temperaments do more dramatic writh- 
ing and groaning and crjing out than 
other women do. Childbirth is a dra- 
matic experience, and the mother is on 
stage, center, and she is in pain. But if 
she "carries on" excessively, she may 
impress her obstetrician too forcefully. 
He may feel that she needs a heavy 
anesthesia given as rapidly as possible. 
Xo one wants a woman to suffer un- 
bearably in childbirth, yet everyone 
knows that anesthesia does affect the 
baby. And the baby needs to be awake 
and alert during his first few minutes in 
the world, with all systems "go." You 
can help by being as brave as you can. 

Phyllis Wright, M.D., associate clinical 
professor of pediatrics. University of 
California-Los Angeles Center for Health 
Sciences, is the co-author of the .Journal's 
column. Medicine Tod.w. 


By Stanley F. Yolles, M.D. 

You have a brand-new baby to get 
acquainted with. If it's your first one, 
you may feel a bit awed. Young mothers 
are always worried about measuring the 
formula and about bathing the baby. 
Yet, in point of fact, these things aren't 
hard to do tolerably well. What is much 
harder is really understanding your baby, 
especially in the light of what we are 
only now learning about his remarkable 
precociousness and potential. 

Child psychologists and psychiatrists 
are focusing more closely on the little 
baby's mind and emotions, and they are 
finding surpri.sing new facts that moth- 
ers need to know. A baby is not an un- 
con.scioua little that simply 
eat« and sleeps. He is a »e<fking, reacting 
human being with a previously unsua- 
f)ected capacity to learn very early in 
life and to be far more deeply influ- 
enced (or gfKjd or ill by the impact of 
your own maternal behavior, including 
' ven your mfM>di4, on bin ultimate health 
:-nd happint^ an an adult. 

Dr. I^ili K. I'eller, a New York p«y- 
' hr^nalyNt, remindn un that puppieiiand 

bear cubs are much more independent of 
their mothers than human infants. "Hu- 
man mothering not only lasts much 
longer than that of any other species," 
she says, "but is far more intense, has 
many more dimensions." 

One of the first things your baby has 
to learn is that you are separate from 
him. He has to realize that there is a 
Me and a Not-me. There is warmth, 
comfort and food — and it goes away. 
But he also learns that it comes back. 

leople used to believe that little ba- 
bies couldn't focus their eyes well enough 
to see, and that their first smiles were 
just accidental. Now investigators have 
shown that even newborn babies can 
see, and are interested in what they look 
at. Infants under five days old will stare 
longer at a patterned surface than a 
plain one, because it's more stimulating. 
By the end of the third week, a baby is 
smiling a real "social smile," as a re- 
sponse to the human voice. The investi- 
gator who studied babies' smiles says 
that babies will also smile sometimes at 
the sound of a bird whistle or a rattle, 
but the human voice in a woman's pitch 
is the sound that brings the surest smiles. 

Learning about the Me and the Not-me 
is made much easier for the baby by the 
comfort of being held and fondled. A 
little baby's sense of touch and tempera- 
ture is even better developed than his 
sight and hearing. Studies of children 
who do not get much holding, such as 
babies in an orphanage, show that they 
do not sleep or eat well. Later in life 
they have trouble relating to othe s 

Fortunately, most mothers quite natu- 
rally hold their babies, play with them, 
and talk to them— and they do it be- 
cause they enjoy it. But it is interesting 
to know that scientists are finding new 
proof that these actions are a vital part 
of mothering, and that the baby wants 
and needs this right from the start. 

At about eight weeks of age, your 
baby is old enough to start worrjing. 
Scientists think that at this age an in- 
fant's sight and hearing have become 
keen enough so that he knows one per- 
son from another. He suddenly realizes 
that there is more than one Not-me. Are 
all the Not-me's warm and lo\ing? He 
isn't sure. If a stranger picks him up, 
he's likely to cr>'. The psychologists call 
this reaction "stranger anxiety." 

Somewhat later your baby can develop 
another worry, "separation anxiety." 
From six months to 18 months seems to 
be a crucial period during which the 
baby is really afraid of losing his mother. 
Perhaps it is at this time that he has 
really identified her as the most impor- 
tant Not-me in his life, and he quite 
wisely understands that he would have a 
tough time without her. If anything hap- 
pens that leads him to believe that he 
has lost his mother, he may suffer a men- 
tal depression severe enough to have 
continued effects throughout his life. 

Dr. Carl Stern, child psychiatrist, has 
pointed out the crucial importance of 
allaying the separation anxiety in babies 
from six to 18 months. He says that the 
mother who is going through some emo- 
tional problem of her own may be de- 
tached and ab.sent, either physically or 
pHychologically. So thus is a jjeriod when 
a mother parlic-ularly needs the reassur- 
ance of her husband and the knowledge 
that her marriage iit sound. 

S«?curity and Htimulation theHC are 
the two gift* that the baby continuea to 
need. As he bcginH to babble and coo, he 
needM a verbal rj-sponw from hin mother. 

He learns that human beings liCe to 
make sounds at each other, that there is 
a pattern of give-and-take in making 
sounds. He must learn that pattern be- 
fore he can begin to learn that sounds 
have meanings. A baby who was never 
talked to would never learn to talk. 

When you tr>' to get the baby to reach 
up and take hold of a rattle, you are 
teaching him. One recent study has 
shown that babies who have had this 
kind of coaching learn to grasp objects 
six weeks sooner than babies who are not 
as well-mothered. And when you hold 
your baby in a standing position on your 
lap, you are stimulating him to learn to 
stand and walk. 

You also teach your baby attitudes 
toward food that may affect his lifelong 
physical well-being. Experts in nutrition 
view the United States as an overweight 
nation, and they say the trouble goes 
back to infancy. Pediatricians tell moth- 
ers that a healthy baby gains about 
seven ounces a week. Some mothers con- 
sider it a personal triumph if they can 
make their babies gain eight or 10 ounces 
a week. But the year-old baby who is 
dimpled with fat is no longer a cause for 
maternal pride. Experts now know that 
the overweight baby has been \ictim- 
ized in several ways. First, he has been 
force-fed so that he has lost his innate 
ability to know when he is full and is ready 
to stop. He's been trained to overeat. 

Secondly, the overweight baby has 
probably learned to accept food as a 
substitute for emotional satisfaction. 
Ever}- time he cries or frets, his mother 
pops a bottle in his mouth. Yet a baby 
may be crying and fretting because he is 
lonely or bored. A bottle should not take 
the place of holding and cuddling. 

Of course, the baby who does not gain 
at a normal rate is in trouble, too. Pedia- 
tricians call this condition "failure to 
thrive," and it is a signal to look for the 
source of trouble. It may be trouble 
not solved by merely juggling the for- 
mula. Such babies may have malfcrma- 
tions of the heart or of the digestive 
tract that can be corrected by surgery. 
Or they may have metabolic disorders 
that require prompt treatment. 

Doctors also are becoming increas- 
ingly alert to the inborn errors of metab- 
olism. A recent study of 2,000 mentally 
retarded children show-ed that 21 per- 
cent of them suffered metabolic disor- 
ders. Two of these disorders, phenyl- 
ketonuria 'P.K.U.; and galactosemia 
are currently in the news because new 
tests make it possible to detect them in 
the first few weeks of life. The P.K.U. 
child cannot metabolize one of the com- 
mon amino acids in protein. If he is kept 
on a milk formula, he may become men- 
tally retarded. But on a special sjTi- 
thetic formula he may develop into a 
healthy, normal child. The child with 
galactosemia also needs a milk substi- 
tute, and he needs it immediately if he 
is to escape mental retardation, cata- 
racts and convulsions. 

So, good mothering means giving 
your child all the security he needs and 
all the stimulation that encourages his 
development. It means watching his 
weight both ways. It means being alert 
and observant, aware of new knowledge 
about babies, yet old-fashioned enough to 
enjoy the fun of having a baby. end 

S anlry F. Yollrx, M.I)., ix director of the 
National Institute of Mental Health and 
Axnulan' Surgeon General of the I'.S. 
I'uhlic Health Service. 


The NowTaste 

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The now taste of Tab. 

That's what's happening. To the nicest shapes around. 

of Ta b. 

Your legs 
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days longer- 
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If you shave your legs, you know how 
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shaving! It's Neet — the pleasantly fragrant, 
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Goes on like a beauty cream: Neet is so 
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vhen you use Neet. 

K se sg 

Let's face it! Cream embarrassing facial 
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A few weeks ago a Journal editor received a phone call from a stranger who 
introduced herself as a user of LSD. She said she wanted to tell her story to "a 
large, national magazine that goes into people's homes." Here is her story. 

I want to do something with my 
life. I want definitely to get out of 
this psychedelic state. Because I feel 
that every time I use LSD I lose 
more and more of my mind, of my 
sanity. I feel that if I use it again I 
will blow my mind completely. I 
mean, it is very good to have no ego, 
so they say. But you must have some. 
You have to have something. 

I came from a nice home, went to 
college three years, and then I moved 
into Greenwich Village. I began to 
seek out all the weirdos. I thought 
these people were fascinating and dif- 
ferent, more interesting than f. They 
talked about how they were going to 
become famous writers and famous 
artists, and about how they felt, and 
how they believed in yoga, and all 
those way-out things. They were 
very analytical, and they delved deep 
into the mind. 

Offbeat poetry in the coffee houses — 
I liked it. But I was always different. 
When they let their hair grow long, I 
cut mine short. I always wanted to 
keep myself separate from them. I 
went to work, I was conventional, I 
lived a conventional life. 

Many of them envied me because I 
was more square than they. I felt 
they were renting small rooms m my 
mind, but it was always "they," never 
"we." I used to feel how lucky I was, 
that I could think the way they did, 
and yet I could look square. Some of 
them may want to square up, go out 
and go to work, but no one would 
hire them. They couldn't make it. I 
always felt that I could make it on 
any street. I could make it down in 
the Village, I could make it uptown. 
I could make it on Park Avenue if I 
had to. But they had to find little 
groups, and I knew that the rest of 
the world would accept me. 

1 started out as a placement man- 
ager at an employment agency. I was 
ambitious and I worked myself up. 
Finally I reached the top. Then I 
opened my own agency. I had saved 
up enough to rent an office on 42nd 
Street. And my business was a suc- 
cess. I always had enough to be com- 
fortable. I gave lots of parties, took 
people in, always strange people. I 
had wall-to-wall people. 

They called me the Elsa Maxwell of 
the psychotic set. 

These people had nothing stable. 
The only one they knew that was al- 
ways there was me. I mean, their 
parents rejected them, and their 
friends were in jail, or had moved, or 
changed their phone numbers. The 
only one that was there, 1 lial, followed 
a routine, was me. They all think they 
are artists, but very few have any 
real talent. Kven if ihey do, they 
waste it, they don't do anything. 

ArtiHlK, well, con arliHls. They're 
licartleMM, they're godlcxH, \hfy Hay 
they fear notliiriK, but they fear 

everything, mostly themselves. They 
fear what's going to be the outcome, 
whatever there is to fear. 

They all used goofballs. Those are 
barbiturates. They put you to sleap 
if you let them, but if you fight the 
sleep you get very high. I tried them 
twice, but they weren't for me. 

I went to see a psychiatrist. I just 
wanted to find out what made me 
tick, why I was doing these strange 
things. Why did I try goofballs? Why 
did I have these people around, why? 
He never gave me the answer. He 
kept asking me if my mother loved 
my father. That had nothing to do 
with the situation. Because I had 
taken the goofballs I felt I had fallen 
into some kind of a trap, that I might 
really destroy myself, might get to be 
like one of them. I was always afraid 
of destroying myself. But he didn't 
help me to figure out anything. I saw 
I'd have to do it on my own. 

That's why I tried LSD. 

I have a friend; we'll call her Lucy. 
I hadn't seen her in a long time. I was 
in a coffeehouse downtown, and she 
walked in. We sat there talking. She 
said, "Iris, if there is anyone that 
I've respected all these years, it's 
been you. And if there's anyone I 
want to see on LSD, it is you, because 
you are a beautiful person. It will 
bring out all your good qualities. 
You'll never know yourself until you 
try it." 

Well, she convinced me. I took it 
in tea the first time. I was walking 
down the street with Lucy, and the 
people looked like little cartoon char- 
acters, everyone running, running, 
running. It was like the old-time 
movies, speeded up. I laughed. I 
laughed in everyone's face. It was 
crazy. It was terrible. It was funny. 

Then I went through the second 
stage of the trip. We went into a bar 
for a drink to help us come down. 
The door opened, and a man came in 
wearing a surgical mask and a surgi- 
cal cap. Outside I could see the paddy 
wagon. Four policemen were patrol- 
ing their beat. There were some men 
across the street. Suddenly I thought 
I was in Russia or some foreign coun- 
try. I thought the man in the surgical 
mask was going to grab me. Or the 
policemen were. Or all of them. I 
began moaning. 

"It's the drug," Lucy said. "It's 
just the drug. Now it's Miltown time." 

So I took the tranquilizer, but it 
didn't calm me down. Lucy said, 
"You're coming down very badly. 
The only thing for you to do is to go 
up again." 

So I took some more LSD, and I 
went u|) again. I saw such strange 
things animals that couldn't exist, 
HnakcH, a broom handle that writhed 
like a Hnake. The cars were big bug.s. 

Kverything is ho intenne. We went 
to Lucy'H houKc (continued) 

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6 Important points and ^ 
arguments in favour of 
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"sweating", as, in 
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where the head al- 
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% The use of only the 
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a perfect fit. 

Daily use is possi- 
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Whether you have to 
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or something in tht 
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Happy idea! 

Get a new Philco refrigerator and 
forget defrosting forever! 

Wouldn't it be wonderful? No more precious time wasted 
defrosting your refrigerator. No more defrosting 
mess to clean up. Just let Philco's No Frost system do the 
whole job for you — automatically. 

And Philco gives you more room for food. The 
refrigerator in the picture gives you a huge 16.2 cubic 
feet of storage. But it takes up just 30 inches of kitchen 
wall space. It has Philco's new automatic ice maker, too ! 

What else? This year Philco introduces new decorator 
models with paneled doors finished to match walnut, 
maple or birch. And Philco's exclusive Power Saver to 
save you money on electric bills. And reserve power of 
Philco Instant Cold to keep your family's food fresh longer. 

Isn't this exactly what you want in a refrigerator? 
Come on, get happy ! See your nearest Philco dealer. 




Being realty feminine has a lot to do with love. And new DEMURE 
liquid douche is about as feminine as you can get. "-e e ; 
any need for a woman to resort to : : i~TZ a .• 

harsh, lumpy, medicirral powders. D£'.' ^ - £ e"; ; :. 

confidence about yourself— plus the ma: zi r -z r f 

niioover DEMlTtE Doucht 


IOC ofieo, humans who sii and stand pa\ 
the price of vertical posture. Silling and 
standing combine w iih the force of gra\ ity lo 
produce extra pressure on veins and tissues 
in anc r : "s rectal area. The result ma> 
be par "2 or burning hemorrhoids. 

Tb= : • - _^.nt of hemorrhoid suf^erer^ 
is to reUe^e toeir pain and discomfort. Ho •■ 
ever, of the products most often used 
Yi^ ^i. some contain no pair.-' 

-.others h^\t one too ■ 
{■ -e.ief...aDd stili 

r :>n. 

- i fo— halation ■whic"- 
• has over - 


Utt I r>cl»pfrr>dMTC.e Square 
Philadelphu Pe-nrtoivartia 1S165 


KLUTCrl holds them tighter 

ran eat a - : 
rjnty: in - 
->a*i/'a rrf: 
tea r : ■ i ; - 

SZ\ 6 : " 1 EL,V I RA, S.I. 

iCoi anesuv . 
ofTboid re: 

relief from pain. Soothes 


frtc f^pi^j 


Feet! ^« 

Valki.-g ease from mo'iing till night! 

monuQc, apply ». A*s 

'■' ■WOMM u> ■ ■ -.-jifce 

J> •boe*. r . .^nd dry. 

mitttJ* f - -r-iv- new 

■I TRIED LSD" amtimmed 

jny, and the j 
. .-.^^h. I remember : 
7 - * life. I may pick n 
: T"" 2T is just thewc.; 

"W T card isn't in T 

- rn dKgm ; 

was so ret. 

of bed. I T 
move. Ldc: 
fiist txip. N 
what's rea 
take the 

the bed, ' I 

"That's : 

open tfaoc. 
So were: 

tbe dra& - 
bad. Peop r 
tiful bidldi: 

Other L5 
said I'd s 
They - i 
Lear^' ~ 
in ad:, 
Ismve : 
But y 
have : 
in a ct^ 

Yo- ■ 

-oar brain edis 
f regwngtore- 

I ido't bept 
~ "is is 

. -s? I 

do b£i 
to use tifaen 

go down, y 

you can't 't - 
But tihe : 
you feel tt::^ 
the thin& :^ 
really find 
self. I tried 


-sed. You 


thar s not ; . 

I had giv 
my agenc> 
When yon • 
careabooi . 

that one da^' 
jngs you 

»mit to ao . 

He looked at me, and suddenly he 
said. "But, Iris, are you doing the things 
that you want to do?" And I oied. be- 
cause I wasn't. It wasn't what I really 
wanted to do. I could have done a lot 
with my life. 

One da>- when I was at Lucy's bouse 
she crumpled up and started to panic. 
We both got fr^tened. and I thought 
we needed help. I know a woman who 
- - St BeUexiie Hospital as a social 
r I called her. She said for us tc 
ouoM: over to her place. 

jildn't go because sr - 
' ~eT lipstick and e;. 
- arted checkin g 

- '- >ad a slip on. Slje' 
' ''^packed i: 
make sur 

began to re.2 
ing me any^ 
it as of last - 

a veiy unre^ 
ing. Fm no r 
It's hard t 
stand to sts.: 
LSD doef 
r.-manent i 

feel very strong .y 


Bv Tessvca Russell Gave: 

Thai gUde .: 

Amd wmmdi' 

I hrngforyut . . . 
Amdiatb ' - 

The imyji^ 
me wf: 

-. -vmtg these restiea ftnu. 

about this. Parents and educators 
-jtb wor k er s should be warned what 
aaoe is in our mi^ Worse 
-:?ain. Worse than anything. 
.\nd the kids tiy it because they wan 

- Thai it's bke. or because 
.^r ' to be called chicken. We 

:r.-s coming down to 
- '-.^ the good 

■ Westchester Coun 
-day. "They" 
:>je girb 

- - ..;;.r .....ic : .■-:5- They 
- e street in the Tillage and say 

r.. . do you know where I can score! 

I guess every child hears about 
Milage and wants to see it. But 
don't the parents make it a family out 
iog, go with tlwm and look it over? 

Parents should convince their 
that thrill wakin g doesn't pay T 
them past the Women s House of 
tcntaon on Greenwicfa Avenue. Look 
and you'll see hundreds of girls, all 
uate thrill-aeekers. If you don't 
and ycu have no incomew and }'ou wan 
to eat and buy drugs— you'll end u 
stealirig. Then when yon come to 
realizaiion that >*ou wanted aometl 
better out of life, it will be too late. It' 
too late, when you're 30. to realise tha 
you wanted something better. c n 


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"We have itpeni the summer preparing for 
this day our firstborn begins his many 
years of schooling. There is nothing more 
u-e can tell him." By Eileen Maloney 

I wake at dawn to hear the birds 
warbling in the trees and Jimmy sing- 
ing "Columbia the Jim of the Ocean" 
at the top of his lungs. Drawers slam 
and hangers dank, and I realize that 
he is dressing for school. I thud from 
the bed and into his room: "Shhhh!" 

"Today's the DAY!" he announces 
in the North Wind roar he thinks is a 
whisper. He stands there beaming, 
dressed in his best shirt, his madras 
jacket, jeans and sneakers. "I'm all 
ready to go," he says happily. I sug- 
gest as gently as possible that since he is 
to be in the afternoon kindergarten chiss 
it's a little soon to be dressed. I hang 
up the jacket, give him a pencil and paper 
to draw with and retreat to bed. .\s I 
sink to the pillow I glance at the clock 
over my husband's shoulder. Six .a.m. 

We have spent the summer prepar- 
ing for this day our firstborn begins 
his many years of schooling. New 
clothes lie neatly ready in his drawers, 
and new ideas have been impressed, 
I hope, on his smooth little brain. We 
have walked the route to school till 
I'm sure he could get there blindfolded; 
we have ext)lained the class routine by 
comparing it with Sunday school. We 
have soothed his innocent doubts and 
assured him that he needn't know his- 

tory and arithmetic to enter kinder- 
garten. There is nothing more we can 
tell him, and nothing more he can ask. 

All morning he races in and out, 
bubbling like a tea kettle, demanding 
every three minutes: "Is it TIME?" 
His sister and brother trail after him, 
pictures of alarm. Something is hap- 
pening, and they are not part of it. 
"I'm going to school next year," Chris- 
sie says anxiously. But she has no idea 
what a year is; she has never been sep- 
arated from her brother, and can't be- 
lieve that we will allow it now. Ross 
trots through the kitchen, under his 
hat. "I'm going to cool," he says. 

I wonder if the school is readj' for 
Jimmy. When I met his teacher, Miss 
Marsh, at registration time, I was 
shocked to see that she was younger 
than I. She was small and slight, with 
a gentle voice, and as we talked in the 
tiny classroom I was dubious about 
how she would handle my large, loud 
child and his large, loud friends. I 
asked her how she managed so many 
children at once, and she was distress- 
ingly vague. "We seem to work 
things out," she said. I wonder. 

The mothers gather in a knot on the 
sidewalk for a brief consultation, the 
staff meeting before the battle. We 
agree that the younger children should 
be left behind; we agree that the little 
boys would look better in short pants 
on the first 'd^'. We reminisce for a 
moment abo^flour own kindergarten 

days; can they have been 20 years 
ago? It is time for lunch. 

Jimmy is shiny as a new penny in 
his blue shirt and shorts. The Western 
sun has burned his hair white, and his 
cheeks glow pink with excitement 
through his tan. He is throbbing with 
delight, and he holds my hand when 
we start off down the street, something 
he has not done since he was two. He 
waves nonchalantly to his brother and 
sister, who clutch each other teary- 
eyed on the neighbor's porch, and hails 
a friend across the street: "Hi, Johnny, 
I'm going to SCHOOL!" He looks up 
at me and grins. "This is sure a nice 
day," he says. 

We march briskly past the neighbor- 
hood palm tree toward the little, flat 
green schoolhouse, and my heart con- 
tracts with love and pity. My first 
school was a red-brick fortress, and I 
crunched through piles of oak leaves 
to get to it. My kindergarten room 
seemed the size of a football field, and 
my teacher was as imposing as the 
Dalai Lama. For Jimmy I miss the crisp 
Wisconsin weather, and for him I am dis- 
appointed in thesmall, young, unimpos- 
ing teacher. But he sparkles in the Cali- 
fornia sunshine, so I take his picture at 
the gateway and tell him to be good. 

We join the milling crowd of mothers 
and children in front of the kinder- 
garten classroom. Jimmy is the only 
boy in short pants. He greets his 
friends with pleasure, and we adults 

catch one another's eyes and smile and 
look away in a mutual flood of feeling. 
And then the little green door opens 
and there stands Miss Marsh. 

She is wearing a bright red dress, 
and the children instinctively turn to- 
ward her as flowers to the sun. She 
moves among us briefly, murmuring 
to the children, and by some magic in 
two seconds she has cut the calves out 
of the herd, grouped them in two lines 
by sex, and has marched them into the 
classroom. There is no time for a part- 
ing word; the separation is swift, and 
it is absolute. Bereft, we look around 
in confusion and tiptoe in after them 
and huddle near the door. 

By the time we are in, large and out 
of place and stripped of our authority. 
Miss Marsh has the children seated 
cross-legged on the floor with their 
hands folded. There they stay in per- 
fect motionless silence as one by one 
she calls them quietly up to the front to 
have their name tags pinned on. Jimmy 
looks around once and grins at me, and 
then turns back to Miss Marsh with 
rapt attention. She has become the 
law, and she has established order. 

She looks at us and smiles. "If you 
will all come back at three, I will bring 
the class out to meet you." 

We are dismissed. We drift out si- 
lently in awe and admiration. I look 
back, and there they sit, small and 
intent, in a room that suddenly looks 
as big as a football field. END 

The End of 
the Beginning 


TendemeHH uxtn mfiuntina 
in Amanda. Hhi: Ux>k 
her lata and played a low 
Hong for liadetzki. 
My darling polka-(lt,L 
eyen," he mid In her, uh 
she strummed dreamily. 

Illutlraliori t,/ Htm n f uch« 

For him she had put away her 
feather boa — and all her dreams 
By Rita Madocs 



She must make up her face, for 
Radetzki. She must brush her hair, 
for Radetzki. Then slip into the new 
dress — barbaric red and inches above 
the knees. But she felt as if she were an 
umbrella slowly closing. With leftover 
laughter she sank down on her bed, the 
ix)wder puff a wilted chrysanthemum 
in her hand. 

"Low blood pressure, Amanda," the 
doctor had told her this morning, 
squeezing her arm with his piece of 
black rubber. "And a slightly anemic 

She pulled in her tongue. "I love con- 
ditions. Mobiles keep spinning in my 
head. Black stars, blue comets. Danc- 
ing chairs. Hieroglyphs. ... If only I 
weren't so tired." 

"How old are you now, Amanda?" 

"Twenty -five . . . six . . . seven ... I 
can count to hundred." 

"Get married, Amanda." 

"Ha-ha," she said. 

"Amanda, Amanda, Amanda" — he 
liked to juggle her name. "Listen, 
Amanda. Live well. Eat. Sleep. Drink 
red wine. Take walks. Get out of the 
tedium. Promise?" 

The tedium: being a free lutist in an 
electronic world, contributing her sil- 
very tones to the revival of the 16th- 
century madrigal. Free, because her 
father in Arizona paid for it all— pow- 
der puffs and lutes and little basic 
dresses, which left her arms bare, and 
sheet music, and the apartment where 
the walls were painted citron yellow. 
Now he would pay for her iron pills. 

Amanda rushed from the doctor's of- 
fice with a sudden craving for red. She 
thought of fire engines, the Red Sea, 
children's mittens, poppy fields, her 
mother's garnet necklaces. There was 
not much red in New York City. She 
bought the red dress. She went to the 
Museum of Modem Art to draw, with 
the power of her eyes, all the red from 
the paintings. But she had to hurry 
home— Radetzki might be calling. 

On the uptown bus she sat next to a 
schoolteacher with imsatisfactory red 
hair who was penciling exasperated red 
streaks on the students' papers in his 
lap. "Why? Why? Why?" he raged in 
the margins. An elementary question in 
elementary red. 

Amanda thought of the many whys 
that she herself should have asked, but 
hadn't, since that Sunday one year ago 
when Radetzki had placed his long sUm 
violin fingers on hers and forgotten 
them there. No, not forgotten. He had 
gazed down at the union of their 
hands— it was hke an old-fashioned 
postcard, only the doves missing— and, 
noticing her nicotine-stained fingertips, 
said the usual "You smoke too much." 
She didn't mind, he being fifteen years 
older, and the celebrated Radetzki. Her 
eyes melted into his. 

They kept meeting at rehearsals 
where a Haydn Trio for Lute, Violin 
and Violoncello {continued on page 113) 



Happy to Dress the Part 

In a few months, 
Barbra Streisand plans 

to play the most 
important role of her 

spectacular young 
life. Barbra's expecting 

a baby, of course, 
and having lots of fun 
while she waits. Barbra 
loves clothes (she's 
on the best dressed 
list!), so part of the 
joy of being pregnant 
for her was selecting 
a marvelous mother- 
to-be wardrobe. Here's 
where the Journal 
entered the picture. 
We picked some of our 
favorite maternity clothes, 
flew them to London, 

where Barbra was 
appearing in Funny Girl. 
Barbra, in turn, picked her 

favorites from the 
group. Here they are 
on these pages. 
(For Barbra's comments 
about her coming 
motherhood, turn 
to page 64.) 

At Ennismore 
Gardens, left, Barbra 

poses with little 
schoolbovs. She wears 
a striped 
dress by Ma Mere, 
6-14, S45. Shoes, 
I. Miller Galleria. 

H avina a demitasse. 
opposite, with actor- 
husband Elliott Gould. 
Barbra wears an 
at-home dress 
by David Loring for 
Jeanette Maternity. 
Of bonded Acrilan knit, 
6-16. S30. Cadoro 
bracelets; Evelyn 
Schless shoes; Beautiful 
Bryans stockings. 

By Trudy Owett 

Fashion Editor 

Photocraph* by David Monl«o<n«rir. Barbr* Slr*i«an4'« hair by rradanch Olaaar. 


Quietly observing 
babies and their nannies, 

left, Barbra wears a 
flowered sleeved smock 

dress by Storktime. 
Of sheer bonded wool 
basket weave. 6-16, S30. 

Like all expectant 

mothers, Barbra 
tends to her knitting 

(and occasional 
napping), opposite, 
wearing a smock 
by Stork Style, of 
cotton rib knit. 
6-18, S15. KJL 
bracelet and earrings; 
Adler fishnet tights ; 
Julianelli shoes. 

O n our cover. Barbra 
wears a long dinner 
dress, high-waisted 
like a little girl's, with 
long slender sleeves, 
white lace collar 
and cuffs. By Ma Mere, 
of black cotton 
velveteen, 6-14, S70. 


4 Tutor, Htm Yo>«i Md •* br*nch««: Jordan Martli Co.. Betlon; M«r»naN Fidd 4 Co., Cr»c««o. I. Ma«nin, W*«t Co«»l; Sli>. 8««r & rull«r. 
Mora »lo#Me« P«M > >6 



J. his pregnancy is like a God-given thing, ' ' 
said Barbra, "and the timing couldn't have 
been better. I was beginning to feel like a 
slave to a schedule. Pretty soon Fll have 
nothing to do but cook and be pregnant 
five whole months. I can't wait!" 

She would have earned more than a mil- 
lion dollars merely from one concert tour 
that has now had to be drastically curtailed, 
and the temptation was too much: Every- 
body immediately talked about a Million- 
Dollar Eaby. '"Why do they say that?" 
asked Barbra. "I mean, why must they 
measure everything in money? The most 
important thing is not what got canceled 
but that a healthy baby is bom. 

"I always thought that having babies 
was for other people," she went on, "but 
not for me." We were having tea before her 
evening's performance of Funny Girl in 
London, and the local critics— like those of 
every city she has ever appeared in — had 
just received her with raves that might 
have been written for Frank Sinatra and 
Sarah Bernhardt combined. But the time 
she spoke of was not the triumphant, star- 
spangled Now. (A very short Now at that: 
from a S50-a-week obscurity to multimil- 
lion-dollar status as, to quote a critic, "a 
living legend," took just five of her 24 
years.) It was the homely, awkward, often 
anguished time of her growing up — a very 
lonesome Then. 

"I was kind of a loner," she explained, 
"a real ugly kid. the kind who looks ridicu- 
lous with a ribbon in her hair. And skinny. 
My mother wouldn't let me take dancing 
lessons because she was afraid my bones 
would break; she was always shipping me 
off to some health camp. I would try to 
imagine my future, like other kids, but I 
couldn't, it just stopped. There was a big 
blank screen, no husband, no children, noth- 
ing. I decided that meant I was going to 
die — I wasn't being melodramatic or any- 
thing, I really believed it, and I would 
think, 'That's too bad, because I really 
could have done things.'" 

Is it strange to think that her child will 
have a life so different from her own lower- 
middle-class one in Brooklyn? "Well," she 
smiled, "I can't suddenly get jx>or for her, 
or him, can I? But I don't want a child 
who has nothing but toys from F.A.O. 
Schwarz. Kids like simple things to play 
with: a piece of paper, a walnut shell. They 
should be dirty and basic when they want 
trj l>e. I don't want to make her a kid brought 
up by the lxx)k. I think that if I f:an give her 
wjnfidence and love and the feeling that 
she's want<;d I'll be able to be honest, too; 
a jM-rson as well as a parent 

"That's the most imix>rt;jnt thing; that 
she feels loved and has both jjarenta." Bar- 
bra's own father, a teacher of English and 
f«yr hology, di»d of a cerebral hemorrhage 
when she wah 15 months old and her 
brother, Shf idf>n, was nine. .She looked 
thoughtful, as if remembering the years 
when her mother worked as a bookkeeper to 

support two children, and Barbra's bed was 
also the living-room couch. Friends say that 
she often asks questions about the father 
whom she doesn't remember, that she is 
proud of his promising career as an educa- 
tor, and feels that her own life would have 
been different, not lonely, had he lived. 

"That's the greatest thing about having 
a baby," she said, smiling again. "I get so 
self-involved, too focused on my own prob- 
lems. But when I think of what's growing 
inside me, it's a miracle, the height of cre- 
ativity for any woman. I used to dream 
about having a child, but it just didn't seem 
possible that it could happen to me; it 
seemed completely foreign. I even thought 
about adopting one. And now here I am 
and it's all going on in there. In December 
there will be a whole new human being. 


.'ve been reading medical books — I've 
always been fascinated by the way our 
bodies work: I'm not squeamish about it, 
or upset by the sight of blood — and it's in- 
credible how it all functions. Each organ has 
a duty in the process, each part of it set off 
by complex signals. ... I'm teUing you, it's 
not to be beheved. There must be a God I" 
Natural childbirth is definitely part of 
her plan. Both she and her husband, EUiott 
Gould, will go to classes in New York this 
fall. Barbra has already read a book by the 
Englishman, Dr. Grantly Dick-Read, who 
pioneered the natural-childbirth movement. 

"I can't understand how some women 
can just say, 'Give me an injection, I don't 
want to know a thing about it.' I mean, I 
really wonder about people hke that. How 
can they miss the experience of birth? If 
they really feel it's some awful thing just to 
be got over, why do it at all? 

"All those stories about how we'd been 
trying to have a baby for years were ridicu- 
lous. If we'd wanted a baby, we probably 
would have had one. I really think there's 
something mystical about conception. I 
mean, there are all those women who can't 
have children, adopt one, and then have one 
of their own because they relaxed about it. 
I'm sure there were many times when I 
could have got pregnant and didn't because 
I really wasn't ready yet; I was tense. I was 
too young. 


^t first, I was worried about morning 
sickness, but I feel fine. The one time I was 
sick, it turned out to be the flu. And, for 
the first time in my life, I don't have long- 
ings for strange food. Usually, I love to eat, 
but now I never feel hungry, I just suddenly 
feel empty, and then I know my system 
needs food. My only symi)tom is an exces- 
sive need to sleefj." 

She had an urge to knit in the first weeks, 
which has now jjassed, leaving her with an 
unfinished baby blanket of orange, wine and 
(>ink. Her dres-ser is knitting on it while 
Harbra is onstage. 

Ah for the name problem, that is nearly 
w>lved. "If it's a boy," mud Barbra, "we'll 
probably call him Jawni Emmaiiuel: Jason 
just Ix'cause we like it, and Emmanuel be- 

cause it was my father's name. For a girl, 
we're thinking of Samantha. It can change 
to suit her personality: Sam if she's ador- 
able and kooky, Emmie if she's more sweet 
and serious, or the whole thing, Samantha, 
if she's exotic." 

Elliott— "EUy," as Barbra calls him— 
was in New York on business? that day. but 
would be back in a few days. The courtship 
which began when he was the talented, 
23-year-old star of / Can Get It for You 
Wholesale and Barbra was a 19-year-old 
novice, has become one of the world's best- 
publicized marriages. That it has survived 
the strains of two careers and Barbra's 
streak to stardom is a tribute to them both. 
(' He handles it all ver>', very well," said 
Jerome Robbins, director of Funny Girl. 
"Elliott is a gentleman.") "To say I love 
Barbra," EUiott once told a reporter, 
"that's obvious. Otherwise I couldn't have 
stood it. I know the traps, I know the 
wounds, and I've decided it's worth it to 
wage the battle. People say theatrical mar- 
riages don't work. Our battle is esi>ecially 
difficult because we're real people, not just 
two profiles, two beautiful magazine covers. 
We really love one another." 

Since they met, Elliott and Barbra have 
been together most of the time ("Uke Han- 
sel and Gretel," as Barbra once explained) 
in the face of considerable professional pres- 
sures to keep them apart; probably he was 
the first person to really understand her, 
to stamp his image on the blank screen that 
she had seen as her future. ("She's fragile 
and exquisite," Elliott explained, "she 
needs taking care of. She liked me, and I 
think I was the first person who Uked her 
back.") But scurrying back and forth be- 
tween television shows, concerts, movies, 
and all their sejiarate commitments is not 
easy. They see the baby as something that 
will give them roots again. 

Barbra's sense of diflFerentness was always 
part misery, part confidence in her ability 
to "do things," but, looking at her in an 
English drawing room, sleekly coiffed and 
a deserving member of the Best-Dressed 
List, it was hard to remember that her 
early suffering had centered around the way 
she looked. In a world of snub-nosed Amer- 
ican cheerleaders, she was clearly a misfit. 
She daydreamed, went to the movies and 
imagined herself on the screen, locked her- 
self in the bathroom to carry on exiieriments 
with wild hair styles and dark lipstick i "I 
liked Rita Hayworth," she remembers, "I 
thought actresses had to be vampy" ), and 
tried to fit into the pretty-girl ideal with 
"pink and white dresses with ruffles and 
lace — things I never should have worn." 

At 14, she was an honor student at 
Erasmus High S<hool in Br(M)klyn, a girl 
who never went to proms or had a date for 
New Year's Eve, but she had also made a 
friend. "One day I met this girl named 
Susan," she said, "who wore white makeup 
and kooky clothes. I liked her immedi- 
ately." Susiui hel|)ed to get her out of 
ruffles and free her (continued on paye 112) 



Hundreds of unsuspecting women opened their 
doors to this man — a rapist and mass murderer 
who defied the greatest manhunt in history. 



is a story about Boston. It is a true story, 
about the people there, what happened to 
them, and the strange and implausible events 
that took place in a time that is today and — 
man being the creature he is— may again be 

It begins on Thursday, June 14, 1962. 

That day, under a sky that threatened rain, 
Bostonians went about their business— con- 
cerned with their private or public affairs, or illicit, generous or self-serving, history- 
making or utterly unimportant. Yet if we 
hold a microscope to it, it becomes something 
of a special day. 

In Cambridge, across the Charles River, 
Harvard University was holding its 311th 
Commencement, and in the Yard thousands 
of students, alumni and guests were gathering 
about buffet tables set up under canvas, 
heavy with the traditional chicken salad and 
beer. At 4:15 P.M., the sun came out; that 
was the signal for everyone to break out in a 
mighty song, Fair Harvard. The ancient bells 
of Memorial Church chimed in, echoing across 
the campus. 

At that time, through the Back Bay and 
downtown district of the city itself, 100,000 
Bostonians lined the streets cheering Com- 
mander Alan B. Shepard Jr., the nation's first 
astronaut. The man who had ridden the nose 
of a rocket more than 100 miles above the 
earth a year before had come to his home- 
town, nearby Derry, N.H., to receive a New 
England Area Club award and be guest of 
honor at ceremonies on Boston Common. He 
stood in the back of a convertible, a shining, 
handsome man, and as he rode by applause 
rippled up the street. 

That was a cheerful scene. A stone's throw 
away in State Street, Boston's financial dis- 
trict, the scene was anything but cheerful. 
The stock market had fallen violently for the 
fourth consecutive day. This time the Dow- 
Jones averages had plunged below the floor 
set two weeks earlier, on Black Monday— 
which had been the steepest one-day drop 
since the crash of 1929. Something close to 
panic was in the air. 

By six o'clock, however, all this was his- 
tory. Then a microscope held to the city 
would have revealed a curious process under 
way, something like an amoeba dividing it- 
self. Boston's population swells and decreases 
by half every 24 hours. 

At 8 A.M., as workers pour into the city 
from the surrounding suburbs, Boston be- 
comes a metropolis of 1,. 500,000; at dusk, 
as they flow back to their homes, Boston 
shrinks to a towTi of 750,000. 

CopyrifM j 1966 by Gcro4d Frank. Al R«Ms RcMnrad. Condensed from 
(>«• tonhoominc book. "The Boston St/anatc." by Gerold Frank, to be 
P <iMi « h « < by Tho New Aanoncan Library, tnc 

Among these was Mrs. Anna E. Slesers, 55, 
a divorcee for more than 20 years, who had 
come to this country with her son and daugh- 
ter in 1950 as a displaced person from Latvia. 
As dusk approached, Mrs. Slesers went home 
to her small, third-floor apartment at 77 
Gainsborough Street, in the Back Bay area 
of Boston. Gainsborough Street is an old- 
fashioned tree-lined lamp-lit street of identi- 
cal bay-windowed four-story red-brick homes, 
each with its cement stoop and low picket 
fence guarding a miniature lawn. Once these 
buildings, each a town house, had a certain 
elegance: now, remodeled into small apart- 
ments, they housed students, transients, and 
elderly couples living on pensions. 

For Mrs. Slesers, a small woman with a 
petite face, who looked much younger than 
her age, this Thursday had been leisurely. 
Little of the excitement elsewhere in the city 
had touched her. TVade had been slack at 
Decorator Fabrics, Inc., where she worked as 
a seamstress. She had been sent home at 1 
P.M. the day before and told not to report 
again until Monday. A long weekend stretched 
before her. On Thursday she had shopped un- 
til nearly five o'clock, and returned home to 
cook dinner for herself and await her son 
Juris, 25. He was to come by at seven o'clock 
to drive her to memorial services at the Lat- 
vian Lutheran Church in nearby Roxbury. 
For Latvians, June 14th is a national day of 
mourning for thousands of their countrymen, 
slain when the Russians overran Latvia in 
World War II. 

Mrs. Slesers baked a pan of muffins for 
Juris, and put them on the kitchen table to 
cool. Then, at a small desk in the living room, 
she made out a few checks— gas, telephone, 
electricity. She sealed the envelopes and left 
them on her desk. Then she undressed in her 
bedroom and, in robe and slippers, entered 
the bathroom and turned on the taps. From 
the living room a radio-record-player assem- 
bly, put together by Juris, filled the apartment 
with the strains of Tristan und Isolde. Music 
was one of Mrs. Slesers' chief joys. In fact, 
after Juris had suggested a few weeks before 
that they take separate apartments, because 
they were getting on each other's nerves, she 
had chosen 77 Gainsborough Street because 
Symphony Hall was just around the comer, 
a few minutes' walk. 

The music swelled; in the bathroom, water 
poured into the tub. If there was any noise 
attending what took place in Apartment 3F 
in the next half hour or so, it is possible that 
the music and sounds of running water 
drowTied it out. 

A few minutes before seven o'clock. Juris, a 
bespectacled young man with a crewcut, a re- 
search engineer at M.I.T. Lincoln Labora- 

tories in suburban Lexington, drove up and 
parked. He climbed to the third floor and 
rapped on the door of his mother's apartment. 
There was no response. Juris knocked again. 
He pressed his ear to the metal door; all was 
quiet within. Could she have gone out for a 
last minute's shopping? He descended the 
narrow stairs to the street, sat on the stoop, 
and waited, annoyed. He hadn't really wanted 
to take her to the memorial services. But he 
had come, and now he was waiting. He had 
even brought a little Latvian flag. It was al- 
ready 7:15, and no sign of her. Maybe she'd 
been in the bathroom, and hadn't heard him; 
he went up again and this time knocked even 
louder. Still no answer. He tried the door; it 
was locked. 

Impatient, he went down to the street 
again. As he passed through the dark little 
vestibule he noticed the white gleam of mail 
in his mother's box. She must have forgotten 
to take it up. He waited on the sidewalk, pac- 
ing back and forth, expecting his mother to 
app)ear any minute; then he went up again. 
This time he pounded. Still no answer. The 
thought that she might have done something 
to herself flashed through his mind. She had 
sounded depressed on the telephone. When he 
finally agreed to come, she had said, in her 
sad, mother's voice, "Now, you're sure I 
won't be imposing on you " 

"No, no, it's quite all right," he had said, 
feeling guilty. 

Perhaps at this very moment she was lying 
sick inside. ... It was 7 :45. He put his shoul- 
der to the door once, backed up, rammed it 
hard a second time— it sprang open. The 
apartment was quite dark, but there was a 
faint light in the kitchen. He almost stumbled 
over a chair placed unaccountably in the very 
middle of the hallway. His mother was not in 
the living room; he hurried into the bedroom. 
She was not in there; he retraced his steps 
down the hallway, past the curiously placed 
chair, toward the kitchen . . . 

It was 7:49 p.m. when Officers Benson and 
Joyce, cruising in Police Car 15 a few blocks 
away, heard the dispatcher's rasping voice: 
"Fifteen A— go to seventy-seven Gainsbor- 
ough Street, report of an alleged suicide." 
Juris, who had waited for them outside the 
building, led them upstairs. Shock seemed to 
have driven all emotion from him. His mother 
had committed suicide. She had been de- 
pressed. She had hanged herself on the comer 
of the bathroom door with the cord of her 
bathrobe; her body had fallen to the floor. She 
lay in the kitchen, next to the bathroom. He 
was going to touch her, but then he realized 
she was dead. He had telephoned the police, 
then called his married sister in Maryland. 

Now he sat quietly on the sofa while the 


apartment filled with those assigned by so- 
ciety to take over in time of sudden death: 
the doctor who pronounced iilrs. Slesers dead, 
the medical examiner who ordered her body 
to the morgue for autopsy to determine the 
cause of death, the photographer to record 
what met the eye in every room, the artist to 
draw every object to scale, the fingerprint 
man dusting tables, door jambs and toilet 
seats, the men from Homicide, who live with 
murder, to examine and question, and the po- 
lice stenographer to take down statements. 

Cruising on Commonwealth Avenue, Spe- 
cial Ofl5cer James ^Mellon and Sergeant John 
Driscoll of the Homicide Di\-ision heard the 
dispatcher's message. Mellon swung the car 
around. "They'll want us over there anjTvay, 
may as well go now." 

When Mellon walked into Apartment 3F 
he found himself in a tiny foyer; directly be- 
fore him the living-room desk with a lamp, a 
telephone, and the tiny Latvian flag that 
Juris had brought. A policeman was seated 
near the desk, making out his report. ^Mellon 
glanced toward the bedroom section of the 

' Where's the body?" he asked. 

The other policeman gestured toward the 
kitchen. "Xothing to it — suicide," he said. 

Mellon turned to the right and found him- 
self staring directly at the body of a woman. 
He was always to remember his first sight of 
Anna Slesers' body, its sheer, startling nudity, 
the shockingly exposed position in which it 
had been left. 

She lay outstretched, a fragile-appearing 
woman with brown bobbed hair and thin 
mouth, lying on her back on a gi-ay itmner. 
She wore a blue taffeta housecoat with a red 
lining, but it had been spread apart in front ; 
from shoulders down she was nude. She lay 
grotesquely, one leg flung wide and bent at 
the knee. "The blue cord of her housecoat had 
been knotted tightly around her neck, its 
ends turned up so that it might have been a 
bow, tied little-girl fashion under her chin. 
There was a spot of blood under her head. 
The tub, he saw, was one-third full of wa- 
ter; next to it, her gray knitted slippers, left 
neatly as she had stepped out of them. In that 
first swift glance Mellon saw a pair of den- 
tures soaking in a glass of water on the pantry 
shelf, a kettle on the stove, a pan of mufiins 
on the kitchen table, next to it a change purse 
partly open, a pair of steel-rimmed glasses; 
near the body, on the runner, paper tissues, 
cigarettes, match-pad, comb. Near the thresh- 
old of the kitchen stood a wastebasket in 
which someone had rummaged ; odds and ends 
of trash were strewn on the floor. 

OflBcer Mellon thought, How can you call 
this suicide? Ob\iously the woman had been 
hit over the head m the bathroom, placed on 
the runner, dragged into the hall, probably 
rai>ed, then strangled. 

He walked back into the living room. "Did 
you look at the body?" he asked the report- 
writing policeman. Juris, sitting immobile on 
the sofa, seemed almost invisible, half-melted 
into the background. 

The policeman nodded. 

"You call that a suicide?" demanded Mel- 
lon, angr>- desi^ite himself. He could not for- 
give Juris for not covering his mother's body 
with a sheet. 

"I'll bet you five dollars it's suicide," said 
' he paTf/ r an, who was still working on bis 
ofl'icial rf{>ort. 

"I'll be stealing xomt money, but you've 
got a bet," said ^lellon. "I say it's murder." 

Two days later, Detective Lieutenant Ed- 
ward Sherry, of Boston's Homicide Division, 
announced that more than 60 persons had 
been questioned— neighbors, friends, fellow 
employees, building-maintenance men, paint- 
ers who had been working on the building, 
the mailmen, deliver^" men and the Uke — 
without yielding any clue to the strangler's 
identity, or how he got into the apartment. 
Would ]\Irs. Slesers, shy and retiring, have 
opened her door to anyone while she was in 
her bathrobe, and without her dentures? 

Mrs. Slesers had suffered head injuries, 
either from a blow or a fall; she had been 
strangled, no doubt of that, and sexually 
molested. Presumably, a burglar had 
caught her disrobing for her bath— a 
woman appearing much younger than 
her age— was seized by an imcontrol- 
lable sexual urge, and eventually' 
strangled her. 

Housebreak— with compli- 
cations. The complications 
troubled police. Had the 
apartment really been 
ransacked? Or had it been 
made to appear so? Dresser drawers had 
been pulled open, their contents disturbed. 
A small gold watch was untouched on a 
shelf above the tub; other modest pieces of 
jewelrj- remained in a jewel box. If robberj' 
had been the motive, why weren't these 
taken? The Anna Slesers file was kept open. 
One week, two weeks passed. 

Late Saturday afternoon, June 30, Nina 
Nichols, an energetic woman with gray 
bobbed bail' who looked younger than her 68 
years, hmried into the elevator of 1940 
Commonwealth Avenue. Once inside her 
fouith-floor apartment, "Mvs. Nichols pulled 
off her dress and put on a thin housecoat. Then 
she telephoned her sister, Mrs. Chester Stead- 
man, in nearby Wellesley Hills, to say she 
would be there for dinner around sLx o'clock. 

As they talked, Z^Irs. Nichols interrupted 
herself. "Excuse me, ]Marguerite, there's my 
door buzzer. I'll call right back." 

But she did not call back. Six o'clock came 
and went. Chester Steadman, who was then 
president of the Boston Bar Association, 
dialed his sister-in-law's number. There was 
no answer. When she did not aiTive by 7:30, 
Steadman telephoned the apartment house 
and asked the janitor, Thomas Bruce, to see if 
Mi*s. Nichols was all right. Bruce went up- 
stairs, and imlocked the door. 

The apartment had ob\nously been buT' 
glarlzed: drawers pulled open, pos- 
sessions strewn about the floor. 
Through the open bedroom door 
Mr. Bruce saw on the floor, , 
her feet toward him, the al- 
most nude corpse of Nina 
Nichols. Her housecoat and 
slip had been pulled up to 
her waist. About her neck, tied 
so tightly that they cut a groove 
into her flesh, were two nylon 
stockings. The ends of the stock- 
ings had been arranged on the floor 
so they turned up in a grotesque 
bow. Mrs. Nichols had been crim 
inally molested, but not raped. 

"/ picture the Strangler as fairly 
tall, pale while skin, his eyes hollow-set. But I 
picture Sophie's kilUr as a Negro . . ." 

Muttratlon* by John Cun 

The killer had apparently searched the 
apartment in a fun,', tossing clothes and pos- 
sessions in all directions. Awt>' on a sofa was 
an 8-by-lO photograph of a favorite dog, 
Nina Nichols' opened black purse, an airline 
bag and a hatbox. A photo album had been 
ripped apart. An address book lay open ; cor- 
respondence had been gone through. What 
had the knller been searching for? 

^ nm-through of Nina Nichols' 
background only added to the 
M^k mystery. A widow for 20 years, 
M M she had been chief physio- 
M therapist at Massachusetts 
M ^ Memorial Hospital funtil her 
^BB^^ 65th birthday three years 
M ago. Her hobbies were music 

^^L^ ^^^^ and photography. She was 
^P^^ never seen unth a man. 

Until long after midnight Lieutenant 
Sherr>' remained on the scene. \Miat he 
looked for most hopefully was evidence that 
something had been stolen— a watch, a 
ring— that could be traced to a pawnshop. 
But it seemed that nothing had been taken. 
A camera, worth at least $300, had been 
handled and cast aside. Why the disorder if 
no robberj- was intended? 

Detectives went door to door, questioning, 
but the only clue was the mysterious sound 
of the door buzzer. Would Nina Nichols, 
eminently respectable, have allowed a strange 
man to enter her apartment while she was 
wearing on]>- a flimsy robe over her slip? 

h wiis ne^iriy 3 a.m. Sunday before Sherry 
^rot to bed, but he was at the Homicide Divi- 
sion office by eight that morning, going over 
the Nichols and Slesers cases with Lieutenant 
John Donovan, chief of the Homicide Di\n- 
sion. Sixteen days apart, two elderly women 
strangled and sexually molested, their apart- 
ments ransacked. . . . Police Commissioner 
Edmiind McXamara, recently appointed to 
re\ntalize Boston's police force, called a con- 
ference of department heads for the next 
day, Monday, July 2. 

Monday was a troubling day for Mrs. 
.\nnie Winchell, 75, and her next-door neig^i- 
bor, Margaret Hamilton, 70, of Lynn, Mass., 
a town 10 miles north of Boston. They lived 
on the second floor of 73 Newhall Street, a 
red-brick house converted to flats. Mailings 
.-^eally began for them when they heard their 
mail dropped before their doore. Then each 
would open her dow and pick -it up. At the 
same time their naghbor across the hall, 
Helen Blake, 65, a retired practical nurse, 
would open her door, and the three wonoen 
would exchange gossip. 

But this Monday Hden Blake had not ap- 
peared. Come to think of it, Mrs. Winchell 
and her friend hadn't seen her since Saturday. 
By 5 P.M. the two women were worried 
enough to get from the super a key to Mrs. 
Blake's apartment. They opened the door, 
and saw every drawer in the bureau was open. 
They were too frightened to go inside. 

When Lynn police arrived, and with them 
Detective Lieutenant Andrew Tiiney of the 
Essex District Attorney's office, they found 
Helen Blake dead. She lay face down on her 
bed, nude except for pajama top, which had 
been pushed above her shoulders. A stocking 
Qad b>een tied with ferocious strength around 
her neck; her brassi^ had been looped under 
-he stockings, its ends tied in a flamboyant 
oow unda- her chin. 

-\ footlocker had a piece of kitchen knife 
broken in its lock. Drawers in the bedroom 
had been rummaged through. The living- 
room desk drawer had been placed on the 
floor, as if the killer had crouched there ex- 
amining its contents— letters, stationer}-, a 
religious medal. It appeared that Mrs. Blake 
had been strangled in the kitchen and carried 
into the bedroom, where she had been mo- 
lested . Carn-Tng her must have taken strength ; 
she weighed more than 165 pounds. 

John P. Burke, Essex District Attorney, 
told reponers that the killer must have been 
someone Helen Blake knew. It was difficult to 
imagine how anyone got into the apartment 
unless Mrs. Blake had admitted him— the 
door had a chain, a bdt, and a Yale lock. 
Tho^ was no sign of forcible entrj*. 

Yet the idea that Helen Blake, in pajamas, 
would have allowed a man to come into her 
apartment was ridiculous to those who knew 
her. No one could remember having seen her 
with a man; a brief marriage had been an- 
nulled more than 35 years ago. She lived a 
quiet life, accepting a private nursing case 
now and then. She loved music, played the 
piano well, attended many evening concerts. 
There was nothing here to grasp hold of. 

• Helen Blake, a woman of 65, sexually mo- 
lested and strangled in L>-nn between 8 km. 
and 10 A-M., Saturday, June 30. 

• Nina Nichols, a woman of 68, sexually mo- 
lested and strangled in Boston, less than an 
hour by trolley from hynxx, between 5 P.M. 
and 6 P.M. the same day. 

Boston's Pcdice Commissioner Edmund 
McNamara, a fwroer FBI agent, was winding 
up his Mwiday conference on the Anna 
Slesers and Nina Nichols stranglings when 
Lieutenant Donovan told him about Helen 
Blake's body being found in Lynn. As the de- 
tails unfolded, McNamara exclaimed, "Oh, 
God, we've got a madman loose!" 

These three stranglings in a two-week pe- 
riod were only the beginning. Over the next 
18 months the murders would go on and on, 
until 11 women in the Greater Boston area 
would be found dead and sexually molested 
with no clue to their killa-; until Boston 
would become a city besieged by terror. 

These murders would give rise to the great- 
est manhunt in the hist<»y of modem crime, 
using every technique of detection, natural 
and supernatural — computers, clairvojrants, 
men and women claiming extrasensory pow- 
ere, psychiatrists armed with hypnotic drugs, 
hallucinating agents and soKsJled truth se- 
rums, even a specialist in anthropology. 

McXamara canceled all police leaves and 
assigned all detectives to the Homicide Divi- 
sion. A roundup began of all known sex of- 
fenders, a check was made on every man be- 
tween 18 and 40 released in the last two years 
from mental institutions. The killer, it was 
suggested, was suffering from delusiais of 
jjersecution, hating all oldsr women because 
he hated his mother. 

The police appealed to women: Keep your 
doors locked, let no strangers entra-, report 
prowlers. An emergency telephone ntimber 
was publisted, to be called day ot nl^t. In a 
kind erf desperation. Police Commissioner 
McNamara asked the FBI for a specialist in 
sex crimes to lecture 50 chosen detectives. 

At this point, early July, police were still 
reluctant to give up the idea that the stran- 
glings grew out of burglaries. News that a sex 
maniac was preying on unattached women 
could demoralize a dty like Boston, having 

one of the country's largest concentrations of 
single women and women living alone. Some 
of the biggest insurance companies, major 
mutual fimds and banking establishments 
have thar home c^ces in Boston. With law 
firms, brokerage houses, book and magazine 
publishers and the like, the city needs female 
office help by the thousands. To shout 
"Strangler!" in Boston was tantamount to 
shouting "Fire!" in a crowded theata-. 

Tips and alarms deluged Police Head- 
quarters. One of the first calls came from an 
apartment house not far from Anna Slesers'. 
Police found a 22-year-old girl crying hyster- 
ically. Walking home from a movie, she had 
heard footsteps and begun to nm. At her 
apartment house, fumbling for her key, she 
turned in time to see a tall man looping a 
piece of wire about her neck. She screamed 
and broke awaj'. The man vanished. 

Xi a bar in downtown Boston a 45-year-old 
woman met a young man who said he was an 
ex-Marine. After the bar closed he invited her 
to his apartment for another drink. There he 
forced her into the basement, seized her by 
the throat, raped her, and whispered, "I like 
to choke older women." 

The 60-year-old widow of a physician was 
watching television about 9 P.M. when a 
knock sounded on her front door. She opened 
it. A man stood there, his features indistinct 
in the gloom of the porch. "Your husband, 
the doctor, told me to look you up," he said. 
The woman's scalp prickled : her husband had 
been dead 10 years. The man's voice, bojTsh, 
pleasant, persuasive, went on, "He was telling 

me " She slammed the door, which locked 

automatically, and phoned police. 

Then, on August 21, Ida Irga was found 
strangled in her locked apartment on the fifth 
floor of 7 Grove Street. This was in Boston's 
North End, a rundown area frequented by 
students, artists and homosexuals. 

^klrs. Irga had been dead about two days. A 
pillowcase had beai tied about her neck. She 
had been sexually molested. A short, stocky- 
woman with bobbed gray hair, widowed for 
more than 30 years, she had been visiting 
Massachusetts Memorial Hospital for a skin 
ailment. Her three-room apartment had been 
ransacked, but her gold watch and a puree 
containing money were on a bookcase, un- 
touched. There were no signs of forcible entry. 

The manner in which Ida Irga's body was 
left pOTnted to a pattern now even more bi- 
zarre. Pcdice S^. Jam^ McDonald, first on 
the seeaie, began his report in this manner: 
"... officers observed the body of Ida Irga 
Ixing on her back an. the living-room floor 
wearing a brown ni^tdress, which was torn, 
exposing her body. There was a white piDow- 
case knotted tightly around her neck. . . ." 

This fourth mtirder struck Boston with 
special force, "^"lld stories began to circulate, 
whispered by one woman to another, stories 
that approached the truth: that the bodies 
were exhibited in obscene positions, that the 
killer did not actually rape his victims, but 
assaulted them somehow. . . . Women locked 
themselves in their apartments. Gas-meter 
readers, tdephone installers, delivery boys 
wae frostrated; door-to-door sales plum- 
meted; there were runs on door locks and 
locksmiths. Yet there were women who opened 
their doors to the Strangler; in the end, it 
would be estimated that more than 500 
women had done so. Why? 

Amid the panic came intense speculation. 
One strangler — or mw^e? .^mong those caught 


Then what happened?" Di- 
Natale asked. 
Gordon shook his head. "I 
don't want to tell you— 
it's just too brutal. You 
must realize, Mr. DiNa- 
tale, that when I tell you 
this, it's verj^ much an ac- 
tual event to me — I get ill." 
DiNatale opened a desk 
drawer and brought out police photographs of 
six different sex offenders. He spread them on. 
the desk. "Mr. Gordon," he said, "is the 
Strangler any one of these?" 

Gordon pointed to one print. "Either this 
is the Strangler or it's his twin brother." 

The photograph showed a tall, cadaverous 
young man with a curl of black hair over his 
forehead, a lantern jaw. On the back of the 
photograph was the name; we will say it was 
Arnold Wallace— not the true name. 

DiNatale remembered that he had recently 
collared Wallace breaking into a tea shop. 
Brought into the light, he was a frightening 
spectacle: over six feet two inches, skin the 
color of cla}', enormously long arms. He was 
26, a mental patient at Boston State Hospital 
who had ground privileges. After walking 
away a few days before, he had been prowl- 
ing about the city, sleeping in the basements 
of apartment hotises. The court had ordered 
Wallace returned to the hospital. But now 
this man Gordon had described Wallace with 
frightening accuracy' — even to his habit of 
sleeping in cellars— and had done it before 
being shown the photograph. 

"O.K.," DiXatale said. "How about some 
of the other stranglings? Sophie Clark, for 

"That was different," said Gordon. "I pic- 
tvire Sophie's killer as a Negro, a big, huskj- 
man. He knocked on her door — Sophie knew 
his voice — and she opened it, and he just 
pushed his way past her." Gordon went on to 
describe the hallway and living room: two 
sofas, one brown, one black; a telephone 
table, and over it two prints hanging on the 
wall. The kitchen door to the back hallway 
had been nailed shut. 

DiNatale listened impassively. He had 
been joined by two colleagues. Special Officer 
Jim MeUon and Detective Frank Craemer, 
while Gordon talked. A Negro was a suspect 
in the Sophie Clark miirder — a six-foot-three 
youth of 24, who had taken out Sophie Clark 
at least once. But she was deeply in love with 
her fianc^ back in New Jersey, and, as she 
told her roommates, the other man had to 
count her as one of his failures. 

DiNatale asked Gordon, ""\\Tiat did the 
killer do to Sophie?" 

"I don't want to go into that," Gordon 
said. "I told you, it makes me sick. I dream 
about the brutality, I can't sleep nights." 

The next day Phil DiNatale gave Paul 
Gordon some thought. Perhaps he could 
senae things that others could not. But why 
did he stop his description just before the 
murders? Because he didn't know? Or be- 
cause he did know? Could he be the killer 
him.^lf? H<- v.u_- h'.'^' -Tong enough. 

A ■■f.<-*:K ial»T Gordo;, dropped in again, to 
a-sk w h' lher be could v: ■ of the murder 
apartments. Impressionii would be more 
powerful OD the scene, be said. DiNataJe was 
more interested than he sh :!e had 

found a landlady with whoi. .c-e had 

roomed in 1961. She recalled that Wallace 
had beaten his mother to make her hand over 

her welfare checks. 

Mrs. Wallace had 
landergone surgery at Bos- 
ton City Hospital on 
April 14, 1961. Shortly 
after the operation,^ 
her son \"isit ed 
When he had left, 
mother on the 
floor, uncon- 
scious, the 
which / 

One suspect kept a 
diary in which he had written, 
"Always Run from Temptation Instantly"; 
and another played Othellc, with a dagger. 

she had been fed and given plasma ttxn from 
her body. She died later that da^y without re- 
gaining consciousness. Wallace insisted that 
his mother had been sleepirig peacefully when 
he left. Perhaps she had eonvuisiv^ely thrown 
herself out of bed. But nurses said wooden 
sides had been fitted to it. . . . 

Important as this storj- was in placing Wal- 
lace in the Strangler-psychological pattern, 
more important was his having escaped from 
Boston State Hospital several times— mc/; 
time coinciiing with a strarifUn-g. Had Paul 
Gordon, with his startling E.S.P., actually 
zeroed in on the Strangler? Why not take 
him to the murder apartments as he asked? 
Detective DiNatale said, "Sotmds like a good 
idea, Paul." 

Detective Craemer and two other colleagues 
went along. They drove first to Sophie 
Clark's, on Huntington Aveaue. Gordon led 
them to the rear of 311 Huntington Avenue. 
As he was about to enter the basement. De- 
tective DiNatale said, "Sophie didn't live in 
this building, Paul. She lived two doors down, 
at Number Three-fifte«i." 

Gordon brushed him aside. "I know, but 
the killer entered this cellar. They all con- 
nect, like dungeons." He led them through 
service entrances, around furnaces and stor- 
age rooms, until they were in the basement of 
315— Sophie's building. DiNatale marveled. 
Either tha.t E.S~P. really means something, or 
else he's been here before. 

Gordon stopped. "See that door? The 
killer hid behind it, waiting for Sophie to 
come home. He was nervous, smoking ciga- 
rettes. Open that door and you'll find a pile of 
butts behind it. Chesterfields." 

Dutifully Phil DiNatale opwied the heavy 
door; three or four butts lay on the cement 
floor. They were Chesterfidds. 

"Now follow me," said Gordon. He hurried 
up the back stei>s. On the fourth floor, at the 
door of apartment 4-C, he said, "As you go 
in, remembw the telephcme table I toW you 
about, the prints on the wall, the two sofas 
I mentioned— one black, one brown. You'll 
find a bookcase in the rigfatfaand comer near 
the window and a gray easy chair next to it." 

The fv apartment in which Sc^hie 

and her r • les had lived had since been 

rented by two college boys. One of them let 
the men in. Uttapartzneot was almost exactly 

as Gixxion had de- 
scribed it . The book- 
case was where he 
said it would be, the 

W -'i^ifc M chair next 

* ' / m J^jMM. to it. Only one sofa, a 
black one, was seen. 
But there was no tele- 
phone table, nor 
any prints hang- 
ing on the walL 
DiNatale took the 
new tenant aside and 
talked with him. There 
had been a brown couch 
when he rented the 
place, the young man 
said ; it was now in the 
cellar. There had 
been a telephone 
table in the hall, and 
there might have been 
two prints on the wall — 
the plaster showed nail holes. And the back 
door, as Gordon had told DiNataJe days be- 
fore, was nailed shut. How could Gordon 
know all this unless he had been in the apart- 
ment when the girls lived there? Or unless he 
really had extrasensory perception? 

On the morning of May 20th^ DiNatale a- i 
Officer James ZVIellon were summoned to 
Boston State Hospital, where they n;et Pau] 
Gordon and his attorney, a group of p<;ri:-r 
officials headed by Lieutenant Sherrj-, It. 
George Stratton, and several other psychia- 
trists. All were excited because Paul Gord ?r. 
had just identified Arnold Wallace as the i..„;-. 
he had vistialized as the Strangler. 

The day before, Gordon had called on Dr. 
Stratton with a request. "Could I meet Ar- 
nold Wallace? I want to see whether he aiid 
the man I visualize are the same pa^n." 

Dr. Stratton sent an orderly for Wall:^:^. 
When Wallace's tall figure came into vitw. 
Gordon whispered excitedly to Dr. Stratton, 
"That's your fellow!" 

Dr. Stratton introduced them. "Paul, this 
is Arnold Wallace. . . . Arnold, this is Paul 

Wallace held out a limp hand. "Yes, I 
know," he said— a surprising response. 

The three talked briefly; aftierward, Gordon 
remarked to the doctor. "Isn't that amazing? 
Arnold said, "I know' when you introduced 
us. That jarred me. He knows me." 

How could he explain that? 

"I've been visualizing him tmtfl I almost 
live in him," said Gordon. "If I can visualize 
him, maj-be he can %-isuali2e me." 

Would he consider Wallace a suspect? 

"He's the man," Gwxlon said positively. 

Now having identified Wallace, Gordon be- 
gan telling the assembled groop what had 
happened in the Nina Nichols strangling: 
how Wallace had walked into the lobby of 
1^40 CcMnmon wealth .\ venue, buzzed Nina 
Nichols from below, walked up the three 
flights, knocked, and gone in. How he ap- 
proached her as if she were his mother, how 
she backed away in fright, how he choked her 
half unconscious, placed her in a chair, pleaded 
with her as if she were his mother and finally 
killed her— not to take her life, but to silence 
her 90 she would UtHem.. 

Lit • rr>' broke in. "Paul, Fm 

new „ - P. thing. You answer one 

question, and I'll believe you. Teil me what 
happmei to Nina Nichols. Only the niedical 


examiner and I know. Can you see what hap- 
pened to Xina Nichols at the time she was 
being murdered?" 

Paul Gordon's attorney leaped to his feet. 
"Wait a minute, Paul ! . . . Lieutenant Sherrj', 
if he gives you that answer, does that mean 
you'll arrest Paul as the Strangler?" 

Gordon interrupted. "Lieutenant, someday 
when you're not wearing a badge I'll tell you 
what happened to Nina Nichols and the other 
women. Stuff like that makes me feel squeam- 
ish. I can't sleep nights, it's so real to me." 

Days later, Lieutenant DiXatale and Offi- 
cer Mellon interviewed Dr. Stratton. They 
came away more puzzled than ever. Gordon's 
attwuey had first mentioned Gordon's name 
to the psychiatrist in March. Gordon had 
visited Boston State Hospital a few days 
later and introduced himself, said Dr. Strat- 
ton casually, and had come up twice since 
then to consult him about various personal 
matters. Dr. Stratton was understandably 

So Paul Gordon had visited Boston State 
Hospital in March— fe*/ore he called on De- 
tective DiNatale in May and identified Ar- 
nold Wallace's photograph. Perhaps Paul 
had identified the photograph not because he 
possessed E.S.P. but because he had seen 
Wallace at the hospital, even talked with him. 
That could be why Wallace appeared to know 
Gordon when Dr. Stratton introduced the 
two men. Was the whole thing a hoax? There 
was nothing to do but check and recheck cir- 
cumstantial evidence, and try to decide about 
the amazing Paul Gordon, who knew so 
much— and said he had learned it telepathi- 
cally from Arnold Wallace, the Strangler. 

July, August, September, 1963. The daj-s 
ticked off through the hot sununer, with no 
new strangling. On September 8, in suburban 
Salem, Mrs. Evelyn Corbin dropped in to 
have Sunday breakfast with her friend, Mrs. 
Flora Manchester, 66, who lived down the 
hall on the first floor of a red brick building at 
224 Lafayette Street. Mrs. Corbin was a 
vivacious divorce of 58, who looked nearly 
15 years younger. She had a modest job in an 
electronics comjjany, and for some time had 
been seeing a good deal of Mrs. Manchester 
and her son Bob, 41. The three were almost a 
family group. 

The two wom^ usually took Sunday 
breakfast together, in nightgowns and house- 
coats; then Mrs. Corbin would retiuTi to her 
apartment and dress for 11:30 .\.M. Mass at 
nearby St. Theresa's Chapel. On her way out 
she would rap twice on Mrs. Manchester's 
door to signal her departure. Returning an 
hour later, she would knock again to indicate 
she was back. 

Bob Manchester, a sales engineer, had left 
at 9 AJJ. for his office in Newtwi, 25 miles 
away, to catch up on work, and the two women 
had one bit of gossip — someone had tried a 
key in their doors earlier that morning. They 
dismissed the incident from their minds, and 
Mrs. Corbin left about 10:35 for her own 
apartment to dress for chxirch. 

Mrs. ^Manchester heard no doable knock 
at 11:10, the usual time. When she had not 
heard it by 11:15, she telephoned >Irs- Cor- 
bin to warn her she'd be late for Mass. There 
was no answer. At 1 P.M., with another neigh- 
bor at her side, Mrs. Manchester imlocked 
Mrs. Corbin's door. They found her sprawled 
across her bed in her blue nightgown and 
gray housecoat. 

She had been strangled with two of her stock- 
ings, knotted with the Strangler's extra half 
hitch. Her housecoat had been ripped open 
with such riolence that three buttons had fk)wn 
off. Her nightgown had been pushed up. Her 
killer had stuffed a gag into her mouth, and 
tied a third stocking in an elaborate bow 
about the ankle of her left foot. Here, too, 
the knot was the double half hitch— the 
Strangler's knot. Mrs. Corbin had been sex- 
ually assaulted in a manner the newspapers 
described as "unnatural." 

Salem police had only to note a few other 
facts. Mrs. Corbin's pxjssessions had been 
searched, but apparently nothing had been 
taken. A jewelry tray had been set on the 
floor, its contents dumped on a couch, with 
the contents of her purse. The victim had 
recently visited friends in Salem Hospital. 
She was an accomplished pianist — sheet mu- 
sic lay on the bench before the piano in her 
living room. Outside Mrs. Corbin's kitchen 
window, on a fire escape, police found a fresh 
doughnut. No doughnuts were found in the 
apartment, nor had any tenants tossed dough- 
nuts from the windows above. 

In the afternoon of Saturday, November 
23, 1963, a 23-year-old girl named Joann 
Graff was raped and strangled in her locked 
apartment in suburban LawTence, Mass., a 
half-hour's drive from Boston. Two stockings 
intertwined with a leg of her black leotards 
were tied around her neck in an elaborate 
circus clown's bow tie, with the extra half 
hitch— the Strangler's knot. She lay diago- 
nally across her bed, nude except for a pink 
blouse bunched around her shoulders, its but- 
tons ripped off. 

A Salem detective left the scene muttering, 
"It's like renmning a film of Eveljm Corbin." 

Joann 's one-room apartment had been ran- 
sacked, but left untouched on the table was an 
envelope containing her gas bill and several 
dollars in cash. There was no sign of forced 
entr\-. A shy girl with few friends, Joann taught 
Sunday school at the Lutheran Redeemer 
Church in Lawrence. The firm for which she 
worked as a textile designer was across the 
street from Lawrence General Hospital. 

The time of death was well established. 
At 3:25 P.M., on the floor above her apart- 
ment, Kenneth Rowe heard footsteps outside 
in the hall. For two nights his wife had com- 
plained that someone was "sneaking about" 
the halls. Now Rowe tiptoed to his door and 
listened. He heard someone knock on the 
door directly opposite. Apparently no one 
was home; a moment later the knock soimded 
on his door. He opened it to see a man , 
about 27 years old, wearing a I 
brown jacket, and green 
trousers. "Does Joann 
Graff live here?" he 
asked. Rowe could not 
see his features 
clearly, for the 
man's hand was 
rubbing his nose 
as he spoke. 

Rowe said, 
"No, she lives \% 
just below the \ 
apartment you 
were knocking on." 

The Strangler searched through 
his eictims' possessions, even through scrap- 
books and photograph albums. 

The man mumbled thanks and turned 
away. A moment later Rowe heard a door 
open and shut on the floor below. He as- 
sumed Joann had let her visitor in. 

Shortly after noon on New Year's Day, 
1964, ^larr Sullivan, a gay, friendly girl of 
19 who loved music and had once worked as 
a nurse's aide in a Cape Cod hospital, moved 
into a third-floor apartment at 44-A Charles 
Street, on Beacon Hill. Recently arrived from 
Hyannis, she was delighted at finding Pamela 
Parker, 18, and Patricia Delmore, 19, who 
worked at Filene's department store, and had 
been looking for a third roommate. 

On Saturday, January 4, Pam and Pat 
came home from work, unlocked their door 
and found Mary dead— strangled, her body 
propped in a sitting position against the 
headboard of a bed. Knotted about her neck 
were a nylon stocking, over that a pink silk 
scarf tied with a huge bow under the chin, and 
over that, tied loosely, a flowered scarf. A 
greeting card reading "Happy New Year!" 
had been found on the bed next to her left 
foot. Her body had been shamefully abused 
f after death. 

Now the public clamor could not be 
silenced. Two weeks later Attorney General 
Edward W. Brooke Jr. announced that his 
office, the highest law-enforcement agency in 
Massachusetts, was taking over the investi- 
gation of all the stranglings, in and out of 
Boston. The crime against the people of the 
Commonwealth had reached a point that 
was intolerable. 

Within 48 hours of Brooke's annotmce- 
ment, his new coordinating office— the Spe- 
cial Division of Crime Research and Detec- 
tion—had begim work on the second floor of 
the gold-domed State House on Beacon Hill. 
Its powers would go far beyond that of any 
police department in the cotmtry. 

Brooke, handsome and capable, was the 
nation's first Negro Attorney General. A 
Republican who had won a resounding vic- 
tory in a strongly Democratic state, he had 
a brilliant career before him. There was no 
doubt he risked much by stepping into this 
hornet's nest; 1964 was an election year. 

"This is an abnormal case, and it demands 
abnormal procedures," he said. In charge of 
the operation he was appointing Assistant 
Attorney General John A. Bottomly, head of 
the Eminent Domain division. This was not a 

takeover from the police; it was a coordina- 
tion. In the 11 stranglings that had begun 
\vith Anna Slesers, sbc police departments and 
three district attorneys were now involved. 
The Boston Record-American charged that 
failure hy Dorchester, Boston, Cambridge, 
L\Tin, Lawrence and Salem to exchange data 
made solving the stranglings impossible. Even 
in Boston itself one precinct might be un- 
aware of what another precinct had discovered. 

Bottomly, the man chosen to coordinate 
the search, was 42, a graduate of Harvard 
and Boston University Law School; a big man 
who threw himseK with gusto into any job 
he tackled. Lacking experience in criminology, 
he pressed into service Michael Cullinane, 
acting Captain of State Detectives, to act as 
his liaison with police. Later, Detective 
DiXatale, Special Officer IMellon and Metro- 
politan Police Officer Stephen Delaney— men 
who had been working on their own time on 
the various strangling cases— would join his 
staff and concentrate on the search full time. 
He ordered copies made of every report on the 
stranglings in the files of even.- police force 
involved— some 37,500 pages. By the end of 
January he had a stack of paper 10 feet 
high. That included the himdreds of question- 
naires detectives had filled out in the last 18 
months in Boston and its suburbs, every in- 
ter\iew, everj- letter, records of telephone 
tips, complaints, all testimony given by every 
friend, neighbor, relative, fellow employee. 

As additional material came in, these re- 
ports would grow tmtil some, dealing with one 
strangling alone, comprised more than 2,000 
pages. Each of these became a casebook, 11 in 
all. Five copies were made of each book: a 
master for Bottomly's safe; a second for his 
staff and investigators: a third for Donovan's 
Homicide Division; a fourth for the Massa- 
chusetts Bureau of Identification; and a fifth 
for Bottomly's newest creation, a IMedical- 
Psychiatric Committee. 

This committee was composed of a gyne- 
cologist, a psychiatrist with a background in 
sex crimes, a medical doctor, medical ex- 
aminers who had done autopsies on the vic- 
tims, and a ph\-sician whose specialties in- 
cluded anthropology-. Heading the committee 
was Dr. Donald P. Kenefick of the Law- 
Medicine Institute of Boston University-. Its 
task was to study the case books, analyze evi- 
dence as it developed, and attempt to produce 
a "psychiatric profile"— a character-person- 
ality sketch— of the killer or killers. 

Bottomly decided that the accumulating 
data should be fed into a digital computer. 
Programming would include every important 
date in the victim's life; every name in her 
address book, every place of employment, 
every restaurant she frequented, every con- 
cert she attended, every hospital in which she 
had been a patient, or worked, or in which 
she had visited friends. It would include the 
schools she attended, the na'^es of her class- 
mates and teachers, the namisj of ever>' store 
clerk who waited on her, her p>^>-sicians, den- 
tists—in short, every human corUact in her life. 
Then the machine could be fed similar ma- 
1 relating to everj- suspect, in the hope 
t at some juncture two facts, two numbers, 
two pieces of data would coincide: suspect and 
victim would have been at the same place at 

In thim story th« ■•»•«, physical dMcrlptiens 
and background* of parsons suspactad of having 
guilty knowladga of tha Boston ktrangiar's 
crimaa hava baan disgulsad. 

the same time. Or have a friend in common. Or 
have been served by the same salesman. At 
least it would be one clue, one tiny, usable clue. 

computing firm in Concord vol- 
imteered to work with Robert 
Roth, director of the Massachu- 
setts Bureau of Identification. 
As new pages were added to the 
casebooks, the information 
was transferred to punch 
cards, and experts began pre- 
j)aring information from 
'10.000 source documents 
for the electronic brain. Roth established other 
categories for the computer: the victim's race, 
religion, occupation and hobbies, clothing 
worn at time of attack, date and time of death, 
day of the week, position of body when found, 
where in room, type of room, window blinds 
up or down — everj- phj-sical variable. 

A second project would be devoted to 
suspects alone, emphasizing each man's 
en\-ironment, his relationship with his 
mother and with women in general, his sex 
habits, and any abnormalities of behavior. 

The offer came in a letter from a Boston 
industrialist who wished to remain anon- 

" I feel rmn ii lio killed! 
I see him . . . not too big, he weigh about p 
one-thirty . . . look for a rtMn tcith 
a spitzy nose, sharp ..." 

ymous: Why not make use of 
Peter Hizrkos, the famous 
Dutch mystic, who was re- 
ported to have helped soh-e 
27 murders in 17 countries? f 
He was now in the United 
States. Police in six cities 
had already used him. The 
letter writer was so con- 
\-inced of Hurkos's ability 
that he and a group of friends 
would pay his fee. 

A book titled The Door to the 
Future, by Jess Stearn, with 
a long chapter on Hurkos, 
had been fonvarded to Bot- 
tomly. Hurkos, he read, was 
known in occult circles as a 
psychometrist — that is, one 
who divines facts about an 
object or its owner by touch- 
ing or being near the object. 
He was said to have solved 
one murder simply by pressing 
the victim's photograph against 
his forehead. Taken to the scene 
of a crime, Bottomly read, Hur- 
kos often solved it because of his 
extreme sensitivity "to the auras, 
emanations or odic life force 
clinging to the scene." 

H urkos agreed to fly to Boston on 
condition that there be no public- 
ity until he had completed his work . 
To keep his visit a secret, Bottomly 
asked him to land at Providence, 
Rhode Island, 44 miles from Boston. 

Bottomly and a police ser- 
geant arrived at the airport 
on the night of January 29, 
after Hurkos's plane had landed 
They were approached by a man six 
feet eight inches tall, wearing a huge 
cowboy hat, yellow cowboy boots 

and trousers, and a fringed leather shirt. 
"I'm Jim Crane," he said. "You got any 


After seeing their credentials, Crane brought 
forward a heaxy-set man about six feet tall— 
the celebrated Dutch mystic himself. He 
spoke in English with a thick accent. 

It was now nearly midnight. Hurkos and 
his bodyguard were to stay at a motel in 
Lexington, about 14 miles from Boston. En 
route, they stopped for coffee at a roadside 
restaurant. Hurkos suddenly addressed the 
policeman. "Who is Katherine?" 

The policeman was taken aback. "That's 
my mother's name." 

"You tell her, take doctor's advice," said 
Peter. He slapped his legs dramatically. "I 
am worried about her legs. Very bad varicose 
veins— she should do what family says." 

The sergeant stared at him, round-eyed. 
"That's just what we've been telling her!" he 
exclaimed. "But she won't go to the hospital." 

Hiu-kos nodded. "One good thing. It is good 
she got those glasses two months ago. That 
left eye, very bad." 

The sergeant's mouth was open, "How'd 
you know that?" he managed to ask. 

Bottomly thought. So this is how a seer 
operates. OK. Let's say h^ worked up infor- 
mation about the men on my staff. Bui 
this man's mother ? How did he know who 
would come with me tonight? 
Bottomly helped the two men to check 
into the motel. "Tomorrow one of my 
men will call," he said. "His name is 
Julian Sosimick. I'll tell you how to 
recognize him 

"No, no," said Hurkos impatiently. 
"Xot necessary-, I tell you." He 
described a dark-eyed restless man, 
of medium height, about 30, who 
walked with his toes pointed out, 
"and never wears hat because it 
mix up his hair." 

It was Bottomly's turn to 
stare. This was Assistant Attor- 
ney General Julian Soshnick to a 
"T." How could Hurkos know 
Soshnick, who was one of the 44 
attome>-s who worked for Bottomly 
in Eminent Domain? Bottomly had 
not enlisted Soshnick's help until a 
few hours earlier, xchen Peter Hurkos 
uxis already on (he plane flying east 
from California. 

The next afternoon, Soshnick met 
Hurkos in the motel stiite. Detective 
Tommy Da\TS hovered over a tape 
recorder. George Indignaro, police 
stenographer, sat at a desk nearby to 
make the official transcription. Soshnick 
had brought along two large boxes. 
One contained the stockings, scarves, 
blouses— the "decorations"— used in the 
stranglings. The other held nearly 300 
eight-by-ten jwlice photographs of the 
strangling scenes, in sets of from 15 to 
25 pictures for each case. Peter Hurkos 
had asked for both photos and relics- 
objects he would use in his psy- 
chometry. Soshnick removed the pho- 
tographs from their envelopes and 
carefully placed them in stacks, face 
down, on the bed. 
He looked at Hurkos. "OK, 
Peter." he .said. "It's all yours." 
Hurkos moved his right hand in circles 
over the {continued on page 118) 

What will happen after the President's daughter says, "I do" ? 

Who will boss the household ? Who will pay the bills ? 

Will Luci finish college if there are children ? 

In an unprecedented joint interview, the famous couple 

issues its own Declaration of Independence. 

The bride-to-be curied up snugly on the sofa, wriggling her 
toes under an oHve-green blanket and flashing an impish grin 
at her future husband. He had been Hsting, amiably but 
firmly, a few of his basic ground rules for life after the 

"We can't let Luci get a pedicure or some such thing 
every day," Pat Nugent was saying, flashing a grin right 
back at his fiancee, in an unprecedented joint interview. 
"We are going to live on my salary. Luci will have a weekly 
allowance — some money for her personal use. Of course, my 
salary may be so low that the allowance will only be a 
nickel. . . ." He paused to cat<"h the bride's expression: she 
made a wry face. ". . . but we'll do the best we can," he 
ended cheerfully. 

This remarkably self-assured young man was about to 
marry the daughter of the President of the United States. 
This sunny, cozy room, strewn with a teen-aged girl's 
stuff'ed animals and schoolbooks, in which he was so confi- 
dently mapping marital strategy, was a solarium on the 
third floor of the White House. Yet. to hear Pat Nugent 
talk, the idea that this marriage, and this young couple, 
were making national history, seemed incredible. 

«^he elaborate August 6 wedding of Luci Baines Johnson, 
19, to Patrick John Nugent, 23, wiD indeed be historic, but 
the bridegroom — a graduate student from Waukegan, 
111., whom the First Lady once described as "just another 
nice-looking crew-cut young man" in Luci's life — wasn't 
looking at it historically at all. "It's Luci's wedding." he 
said pleasantly, as Luci wriggled some more in her blanket 
cocoon, which covered her bare legs and feet. iShe had just 
dashed in from her g>'m class at Georgetown University 
School of Nursing — and was stiD wearing her regulation 
navy-blue shorts and shirt. Pat went on with his views 
about the wedding: "I'm just an iimocent bystander who 
says 'I do.' " It was the surrender of any bridegroom lost in 
a prenuptial storm of china patterns, bridesmaids' dresses 
and R.S.V.P.'s. 

Pat Nugent clearly preferred to talk about what comes 
after the "I do," at which point he is all set to start running 
things his way. And it turns out that Luci. the bobby-soxer 
of only yesterday, who says people still think of her as "a 
gung-ho bobby -SOX rebel.'' clearly wants it Pat's way, too. 
"He's the man in the family," she noted. "His opinion is 
the one that will stick." Another pixie grin lit up her face. 
"The man in our family has always been the boss." 

Marriage. Nugent -style, won't be an absolute monarchy, 
though. As Pat put it, "Major decisions, we will both work 
on — about finances, where to live, what to do. But I'll make 
all of the small ones. And"— just in case it had slipped 
Luci's mind — "/'// keep the budget." 

What's more, they don't intend to take any financial help 
from Luci's parents. Eventually Luci will inherit a share 

of the extensive L.B.J, broadcasting propei-ties, and a Texas 
ranch called "the Lewis place," which Pat will someday be 
called on to manage, but the inheritance doesn't figure at 
all in their immediate plans. 

"I am young and inexperienced," Pat told me without a 
trace of self-consciousness. "I realize I must start at the 
bottom in any field. I can't demand a huge salary at the 
beginning. But we are going to get along on what I earn, re- 
gardless." This time there was no grin; Pat Nugent was 
assessing himself as soberly as any 23-year-old facing an 
uncertain future, knowing he has asked his girl to share it 
and that the time to prove himself has ai'rived. 

Uncertain or not, there is one major decision the newly- 
wed Nugents have already made together: They want to be 
absolutely on their own — at a comfortable distance from the 
White House. "Pat would no more depend on my family 
for his roof than he would depend on me to open his mouth 
and shove food down his throat." Luci said with pride. And 
Pat clinched it: "We don't want to live in the White 
House — we wouldn't rent a washroom there." 

Except for ruling out 16CM3 Permsylvania Avenue, Pat 
doesn't really care very much where they do live. "I could 
live in Nome, Alaska, with Luci," he says, "and it wouldn't 
bother me." 

"There goes the Alaska vote," Luci chimed in, with a 
look of mock horror. 

But Pat wasn't quite ready to stop being serious. "W^eU," 
he persisted, "what I meant was, wherever you go, no mat- 
ter how far away from your home, there ai'e always new 
friends to be made. And, as for leaving your family, well, 
you have your own life to lead, and they have theirs." 

It won't be quite that simple, of course. Although, as Pat 
says, "we very much want a normal life," it wiU hardly be 
possible to forget that Luci Johnson Nugent can never be 
just like any ordinary American bride, so long as her father 
is President. 

insists it's never "bothered" him to have three Secret 
Service men trailing his fiancee, even on their dates. But 
Luci moans: "I'm manying a man I've never been out 
alone on a date with. It kinda gets to you at times, but you 
have to accept it. I can't fight city hall; I've got no choice. 
But I hope we'U have more of a private life now." 

Realistically, neither of them expects to escape the gold- 
fish-bowl aspects of Presidential family life completelj'. The 
Johnsons may be the First Family, but they are also Luci's 
family — and Pat's too, now. 

Pat readily admits being "impressed" by the President. 
"I always will be," he adds. But. in the frenzied months 
since he and Luci became engaged, he has begun to admire 
L.B.J, as a man, rather than a monument. "The first time I 
met him I was nervous,' Pat confessed. "Now, even though 
he's still the President, I also consider him a friend." 

The feeling, apparently, is mutual. As early as last spring, 
the President took to calling Pat "son-in-law.'' Both he and 
Mrs. Johnson began "borrowdng" Pat from Luci for bowl- 
ing sessions in the small alley of the Executive Office Build- 
ing, adjohidng the WTiite House. Pat, it soon turned out, 
was able to suppress his awe {continued on page 107) 


M« • • • 

« V • • I 




^H^^^^ It's an exciting new trend in appliances— an idea that's been growing 
^^^^^^B by leaps and bounds ever since the first tame departure from clinical 
white to pale pastels and subdued browns. All of this newly unleashed 
color is part of a bigger trend toward more imaginative design in the 
^^^^^^■^^^l ^^m^^ ^^M^^^m kitchen. The thinking behind the trend is that since so much of your 

^^^^H^^^^H ^^K^m ^^^^^^m time is spent in the kitchen, and so much money invested there, 

^^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^^^ ought to be at least as colorful and attractive as any other room in the 

Color Inuodes the Kitchen house. And a wildly colorful kitchen might very well inspire you to 

Photograph hy Horn/Qnn*r 

some wildly creative cooking. So why not have a red dishwasher, a 
green refrigerator, a blue range' Then coordinate them with all the 
exciting new materials available now for floors, work surfaces and 
walls. It goes without saying, of course, that this new color excite- 
ment is just one more wonderful feature of today's appliances— a plus 
factor added to the marvelous performance you expect and deserve 
from them. For more about these and other appliances, see page 118. 
By MARGARET DAVIDSON, Home Management Editor 

Amana refrigerator 
freezer, faced in striped 
plastic. Other facings 
include washable coated 
fabric u-itb wall 
covering to match. 


By Nora O'Leary, 
Patterns Editor 

On their way up, up. up . . . seven girls who know where they're going . . . 
who know what they want . . . what they love to wear ... all 
indi\ndualLits. yet each girl, in her own way. ver\- much in tune witli the 
times. Some things they have in c-omnion: they're all actresses . . . mu<l 
look their best always . . . they all adore clothes, but consider the 
"clotheshorse" old-fa.shioned. The kind of fa.shion they love: what their 
contemporaries, today's young designers, are turning out . . . clothes 
that are kicky but not kooky . . . classic but not c-onservative. To illustrat- 
on these four pages, they wear clothes we made from young-designer- 
pattems, using a coordinated collec-tion of plaids, checks and heathers. 
First and most famous of our group. CANDY BERGEN, below, whose first 
film. The Group, had critics ra^4ng . . . ""Super-raoWe-star-to-be. . . 
Her famous father b ventriloquist Edgar Bei^en : her mother, former 
model Frances Westerman: her "brothers," CharUe McCarthy and 
Mortimer Snerd. You'll see her soon in her newest film The Sand PebhU:^. 
Candy wears here a trench<-oat dress in heather tweed with all the 
traditional trimmings: shoulder tabs, fly front, patch pockets. With it a 
matching turtleneck knit fill-in. By Gayle Kirkpatrick. Butterick 4i04. 


L . 

HEATHER HEWITT, above ... a mass of honey-blond hair . . . round. 
l»Uie Sianie>e-<at eyes and "the longest legs in the world" . . . was discovered 
by Miss America scouts while on a ski patrol . . . won the Miss Vermont 
title and a sc-holarship to study acting in New York. Scheduled to play 
the lead in three rao\ies. one of which, appropriately, is called Ski Weekend. 
to l>e filmed in Vermont, Heather's also a singer, an accomplished artist, a 
model. Here. Heather wears a look that's a favorite in London's Camaby 
Street . . . pea jacket and matching V>ell bottom.s in heatherj' Bristol blue 
tweed. Butterick 4H6. Hat and turtleneck match. Skirt included in pattern. 
JOEY HEATHERTON, left ... a tiny, bouncy ash blonde . . . started her 
acting career as a ■■hea\7"" ... "I specialized in teen-age rebels and wicked 
wenches" . . . surprised everj'one by becoming a song and dance sen.sation 
un TVs Hullabaloo. Not one bit surprised, her musician father Ray 
Heatherton. You'll see her soon in ( a.^sino Royale with Peter Sellers. Joey's 
wardrobe goes with her many-faceted personality . . . "Sometimes I feel 
like being sophisticated, other times I loaf around in cut-off dungarees." 
Here, she wears a dress in houndstooth check banded 
with coordinated plaid. By Emmanuelle Khanh, Butterick design 4170. 


JANE ELLIOTT, above . . . brainy, articulate ... a girl who knows how to 
make her dreams come true ... is zooming to the top fast. While still at 
the Daltoii School in New York, she made up her mind to become an 
actress , . . now, two years after graduation, is starring on Broadway in 
The Impossible Years with Alan King. Jane is just as definite about what 
she likes in clothes ... "I love long sleeves ... I think they're very 
graceful ... if a dress is made of pretty fabric, the more you see of it, the 
l)elter." Sfj, naturally, Jane was pleased with the dress she wears here: A 
full-sleeved smork dress, in coordinated y)Iaid and houndstooth checks. By 
D' jinne Littell. Hutlerick design 3970. HEIDI MURRAY, right . . . tall, 
slender . . . the fashion conservative of the groiij). Heidi appeared on 
liroadway in Ruth (iordon's A Very Rich Woman, toured in the sec-ond 
national comjjany of Toke IJer, She's Mine. Loves simi)le clothes that are 
well nia^le . . . frowns on frejikish a^-cessorizing and "|>hi^tie, metal and 
jjop-art dresses." Here, Heidi wears a cut-out evening dress with classic 
lines, in bhic and aqua clieckefl wool. Vogue design 6900. 
Pattern includes a coat for, if yf»u prefer, make ii matching stole). 

Jiarkvicii : tiriil !r,ii l<, urdrr laiiUriKj inslrvclniii^ on ixkjc I I-I. 


PRUDENCE FARROW, left ... a tall (.5 feet 9) girl . . . imp's face . . . short - 
cropped auhurii hair. Her acting aspiration.s are understandable . . . her 
mother is Maureen O'Sullivan, now touring in The Siihjcct Was Roxc-s- . . . 
her sister, Mia, stars in TV s Peyton Place. Efjually understandable: her 
interest in directing movies. Her father, John Farrow, was one of Holly- 
wot)d's l)est-known directors. Prudence wears a little-boy jacket ... a 
nuitching hip-rider skirt. Of grape and navy houndstooth checks. By (Jayle 
Kirkj)atrick. Butterick 420.5. Pattern includes a blouse. KAREN BLACK, 
l)elow ... a dark-haired gamine who hit it lucky almost immediately 
after coming to New York from Park Ridge, 111., with an understudy 
role in Take Her, She's Mine. After that she appeared in The Play Rooin 
on Broadway; will soon appear in the film Yon' re a Big Boy, \oir. 
Karen loves the kind of clothes she wears here. "I like hip pants . . . 
they're really designed for girls' figures." The cardigan jacket of her plaid 
l)ants suit is bound in coordinated heather tweed. Knit turtleneck fill-in 
matches. By Mary Quant. Butterick design iliS. Pattern includes 
hipster skirt. All fabrics and yarn on these pages are of wool by Millikin, 
availalile at most Sears, Roebuck & Co. stores and through Sears catalog. 

c4 CooUboek far ^Foar^Poeis&Oihen 

limi >. liui p«M.-fs. pi-rhjps mt>n- than amonc dsr. savur all ihr full i(»vs of life, csprciallv the pleasure- of th<r 
pilau-. S«». asiuie'ptMtr pttcfs (and p«mny-m-isc cwtks of anr melierl in«mi dishes that are e«.YMMMnical. yet 
dairlul enou}^ for the richest tables. Ann Ro|;ers is a doer poet m-ith a knowing appreciation ol f«M>d. swift 
humor and j>«MHl sense. We have selected a variety of dishes from her CmJthmtk fvr Pmt Pmel% «W Othen 
(< hartcs Scrihner'$'St»ns, New V<trk. S-«.W| as tMir August cxM»klxM>k cx»ndensafi«>n. Rih-stic-kin}; dishes 
like those- pictured here are perhaps for the lean times. Fnwn left !«• right, thev are: a rich vegciaMe- sausage 
, dish callc^i Jascr K«M, an ariMnatic. garlicky Spas>Ktti with Gvccn Sauce and a spic^ Bicadtoaf Bartecue. 
Other dishes arc lt»r gala times when an unevpeiied dii-ck brings **n celcbraiittn. Ann K*igers intersperses 
these recipes with charming asides and manv tips for making a scarcitv stretch and bloss«»m int«» abundance. 
One thing the piKtr piHrt must never do. she says, is to gulp a meal standing up. An« meal must be eaten m itfa 
cc-rc-m»»n\. e*en if it's onlv*'a big fresh roll — the French «»r Italian kind— the crust shattering w ith the first bite, 
the inside a netw«irk of intricate passages and d«>med riMMns! It smells of %easf and wheaiticlds and w aierialls 
and salt flats. And because its very texture requires slow and careful munching, and each crumb must be picked 
up, it pr*»vides time for these natural, fragrant a$$(»ciati«>ns. So this is the first rule: always ha*e fresh bread." 
selected recipes begin on page 104. JOUMALS COOKBOOK OF TIC MONm NIMBER U OF A SEMES. 

Arranged amiJu thr irrses arr three \iiiMplHtiMi 
but Juexpeiisite meah from tbh moHlh'f 
cootbofit condettiatioH. /• SMStuiu a pv^r p^l 
hi ity/e. l-rom Itjl to rif;ht lkt\ artr jagectl^ml 
{Hyiiler's Cabbagrt. Spaghetti u i:!- >^ 
6rr«£ SaMce, and Rreadlomj liarbfcm 



•-»/« • 

A Co 

\ * » Poo 


To make tne om«tet in this 
picture: Start with 18 fr«.shly 
cooked. Mited ard bUcif- 
peppered asparaqus spears 
about 4 inches long. To is to 
heat and keep warm in d skillet 
with 2 tablespoons melted butter 
or margarine. From time to time 
give the pan a shake to heat 
asparagus on all stdM. 

Pe use the Basic Omelet recip 
or: age 101. Double it. using 
4 < (But go no further: really 
larc '.' .melets can be a mess.) 
As .r>i. - as the omelet beyms 
t' , arrange asparagus 

' •' r. 9 facing one way, 

Fold into thirds, 
)o '>' /er asparagus and 

tilt 1. 7 «n even-proof platter. 

Place a wide strip of Swiss 
cheese like a big t>elt around 
its middle. Cover everything 
except the rheese with t 
strips of aluminum foil, 
under broiler 1 or 2 minutes or 
until chees' melts and takes on 
a gilded glory. Watch like a 
hawk every second. Serves 2 
moderately hungry persons. 

Can you walk a tightrope? Split a diamond? Make an 
omelet? All three feats have in the past been considered 
comparable. But our iconoclastic methods take the fan- 
fare and fright out of omelets. We start with Squiggled 
Eggs — somewhat easier than finger painting — and go on 
to a Piperade — a super-simple whole-meal scramble of 
the Basque country adapted from a recipe said to have 
been part of the dowry of Maria Theresa. Then on to a 
Frittata, an Italian unflipped omelet that is finished under 

the broiler. Slyly you find yourself easing into the True 
Thing. With our detailed instructions, it's a breeze (well, 
almost). Omelets for breakfast, lunch, supper, brunch, 
even dessert! 

Blown up on this page, as in an omelet lover's dream, 
we show a 4-egg omelet enfolding asparagus tips and 
topped with Swiss cheese, or you could use our miracle 
Mornay sauce made from cheese soup. Quick now. flip 
to page 101. By POPPY CANNON. Food Editor 


Deviled Ham 

Consider those economical and everlasting 
cans or jars of meat on your shelf. Lifesavers 
in emergencies, but why wait for a panic? 
Like genies, out of those obliging cans pop 
whole-meal casseroles, exotic meat salads, 
savory foreign dishes, elegant appetizers. 
Give a whoosh with your can opener and see 
what happens! 

On the hottest day, there's nothing more 
cooling to serve for to make) than Beef 
Tongue Vinaigrette— a Parisian favorite that's 
ready in two shakes. Separate 2 (7-oz ) jars 
sliced tongue and arrange slices along with 
3/2 cup onion rings on a serving platter. 
Sprinkle with lots of coarsely chopped water- 
cress. In a sauceijan, combine j/^ cup vinegar, 
% cup olive oil and 1 tablespoon mi;.c-d 
pickling sjjices. Bring to a boil. Kemovf from 
h(- it and stir in 2 dove*? garlic, minced. Cool 
aligJjtly. Pour over tongue. Chill in refrig- 
erator at least 1 hour, or in fr<jezfcr for ."3 
minutes. Serves 4. 

A Vienn***; Unusfrau we know < pends 
hours making Austrian Shepherd's Fie. 'ou'il 
take 1.5 minutes! HU^nd J ''%-(>■/..) pkt^ vhifr- 
sauce mix with 2 cups milk. Stir in 1 t< ;iH; oon 
preparfKl mustard, 1 tf ivj -own celery Halt and 
teasfKxjn dried Hhallol:, Hring f/> a boil 
over medium heat, Htirring constantly until 
thickened. Stir in 4 <4-<y7..) cans Viennese- 
Btyle HausageH, drained anrl cut in halves 
Add i (iJ[i Hauteed onion ringH and 1 ( uf) 
pf^aa. Simmer, covered, 10 minutes. Mean- 

while, make up 1 (4-serving) pkg. instant 
potatoes according to pkg. directioris. Pipe or 
spoon potatoes to form a border around 1 
(1-qt.) casserole or 4 individual casseroles. 
Broil 6 inches from heat for 1 to 2 minutes 
to brown lightly. S{X)on sausage mixture into 
center. Serve at once. Makes 4 servings. 

Happy surprises in a picnic or lunch basket 
are Deviled Ham Pinwheels — as savory-good 
cold as they are hot. Combine 2 (4H-oz.) 
cans deviled ham, 4 hard-cooked eggs, 
coarsely chopped, 3^ cup thinly sliced scal- 
lions, cup mayonnaise, and l-i teaspoon 
cloves. Set aside. Combine 2 cups biscuit mix 
with '^^-j cup milk, using a fork. Gently press 
into a ball. Roll out on a lightly floured board 
into a lO-by-12-inch rectangle. Spread filling 
over dough, leaving a half-inch margin along 
the longest side farthest away from you. 
MoLsten the margin with water. Roll up 
dough jelly-roll fashion, beginning at the 
longest side nearest you. Press gently to seal. 
Cut irtU) 12 onc-in<h slices. Bake on cookie 
sheet in hot oven 425'' for 15 minutes. Makes 
6 servings (2 eachy. 

A galantine is made of meat that is pressed 
iiitf; a mold and chilk-fl. The "mold" for our 
Frosty Beef Galantine is simply its own i»ear- 
Hhaped <an. ('hill 1 (1-lh., 14-oz.) can roast 
beef according li> label dir<;ctioiis. Blend 1 
cup mayojinaise with I fablcHiH>on j)repar('d 
n.imtard, 1 tables|K)on hor8«TadiHh, drained, 
1 tables|K>on c-ho[)ped chives, 1 clove garlic!, 

crushed, '4 teaspoon salt and 3 8 teaspoon 
pepper. Chill at least 30 minutes. To serve: 
unmold chilled meat from the can in one 
piece — onto serving platter. Frost with may- 
onnaise mixture. Keep refrigerated until 
serving time. Garnish merrily. Serves 4 to 6. 

Beef Eggs Surprise are a hearty new ver- 
sion of an old summer favorite. Finely chop 
1 (12-oz.) can corned beef. Place in medium 
bowl. Slice 8 hard-cooked eggs in half, length- 
wise. Remove yolks and add to chopped 
corned beef together with ?4 cup sour cream, 
1 teaspoon dry mustard, 32 teaspoon salt and 
3^8 teas{X)on pepper. Blend well and pile into 
egg-white halves. Dust each with paprika, 
serve on a bed of Bibb lettuce. Place extra 
filling in 8 lettuce cups and serve alongside. 

Elegant enough for a party are Curried 
Corned Beef Timbales. Who'd guess it started 
with a can of corned beef hash ? Blend 2 ( 1 5-oz. ) 
cans corned beef hash with 3 2 teas|x>on 
curry powder. Divide evenly among 6 (6-oz.) 
lightly greased cusUird cups. Bake at 350° 
for 20 to 25 minutes. Meanwhile, make sjiuce 
by combining in a medium saucepan 1 can 
condensed cream of mushroom soup, 3 2 < "F^ 
milk, 1 (3-oz.) can chopped mushrooms (in- 
cluding liquid), 1 teasjjoon salt, 'h tea8|M)on 
pepper and another ' 2 teaspoon curry pow- 
der. Stir and bring to a boil, then simmer 
for 5 minutes. .Just before serving, stir in 6 
hard-cooked eggs, sliced. Unmold hash onto 
serving platter. Pour sauce over. Serves 6. 


PhotoHrnpM l)y Maruy Ssndbantt 

Top-stove III 

New way to make a juicy tender loaf with Campbell's Soup 

1 . Mix (see recipe) . Shape into loaves. 2. Brown on both sides. Cover and cook. Top with rest of soup— finish cooking 

Quick, easy, hearty main disli 

IVi lb. ground beef 1 tsp. salt 

Vi cup dry bread crumbs 
1 can (10^4 oz.) Campbell's 

Tomato Soup 
V* cup finely chopped onion 
1 egg, slightly beaten 

Generous dash pepper 

1 tbsp. shortening 
V4 cup water 
Vi tsp. prepared mustard 

2 slices process cheese, cut in half 

Thoroughly mix beef, crumbs, Vi cup soup, onion, egg, and season- 
ings. Shape firmly into 2 loaves; brown on both sides in skillet in 
shortening. Cover: cook over low heat 25 minutes. Spoon off fat. 
Pour remaining soup mixed with water and mustard on loaves; 
top with cheese. Cook 10 minutes, uncovered. 4 to 6 servings. 

Chen Method: Mix and shape as above. Bake at 350 -F. for 40 
minutes. Spoon off fat. Pour remaining soup (omit water) mi.\ed 
with mustard on loaves; top with cheese. Bake 5 minutes more. 

For 608 quick, easy, delicious recipes, get "Cooking With Soup"— the 200-page Campbell cookbook. Send 50c and 3 Campbell's 
Soup labels to: Cookbook. Box 326, Maple Plain, Minn. Offer may be withdrawn at any time. Void if prohibited or restricted bylaw. 

Line B Dag 


1. On the first Jamaican Independence Day (4 years ago) John 
and Liz Pringle >ei ved an unforgettable Black Bean Soup in 
partly scooped-out avocado halves. Come close with a can, a 
"peg" of crushed garlic, a hint of ihyme, dash of cayenne. 
Serve hot or chilled, topped with hard-cooked egg yolks. For 4. 

2. Snitched for August, month of sandwiches, from the Small 
World on Hollywood Boulevard: Hamburger Stroganoff, a 
6-ounce whopper on a sourdough bun covered with Stroganoff 
sauce (made from a packaged mix if you like), flanked by a 
spiced peach, frilled with fresh spinach leaves. 

3. Pageantry of Old Spanish Days in Santa Barbara. Picadillo 
in the pan — most exotic of hashes. 

4. There are a hundred thousand ways of composing Picadillo. 
This one from a California Mission: In cup heated olive oil 
cook 1 medium chopped onion, 2 cloves garlic, crushed, 1 cup 
drained, diced, canned tomatoes, J4 cup chopped green pepper, 
1 tablespoon capers . . . till tender, not brown. Add 4 table- 
spoons seedless raisins, 2 cups chopped cooked meat — almost 
any kind. Simmer 5 minutes. Four servings, 2 people! 

5. On St. Oswald's Day in Grasmere, England, always — 
orange-flavored gingerbread. We turn to a mix, using orange 
juice for half the liquid. Add }i cup finely chopped candied 
orange peel. Flour the fruit to prevent sticking and sinking. 

6. Blessing of the grapes today in Rome and Athens. An extra 
benison for a blessedly low-calorie new grapeade in cans. 

7. For Sunday supper to celebrate the 20th Seafood Festival in 
Maine — Lobster Rolls. Toss 2 cups finely chopped cooked lob- 
ster meat with 2 tablespoons mayonnaise, a big splotch of catsup 
and '4 cup of finely diced celery. Chill well. Heap on 4 toasted 
rolls, well-anointed with melted butter or soft margarine. 

8. In New Hampshire, during a Cracker Barrel "do," we first 
tasted Marlborough Pie. Now made a smart new way: Beat a 
package of lemon whipped-dessert mix with cijp milk til) 
thick. Add >2 cup sweetened applesauce, 2 more minutes of 
beating. Fold in another cup of applesauce, spoon into a 9-inch 
baked pie shell. Top with whipped cream. Nutmeg? 

9. Surprising but loverly for summer suppers is the new-style 
big eye pork chop. Lean, sweet and delicate as the white meat 
of chicken. Cut or pound thin and it cooks "right fast." 

10. In deference to St. Lawrence, the languid saint who was 
martyred by fire, in many parts of Europe one never heats the 
oven today. So it's cold cuts from the comer deli. 

11. With meats of all persuasions, hot and cold, Americans 
dote on Sassamanesh sauce — that's Indian for cranberry. 

12. Ponce de Leon, the Fountain of Youth man, arrived this 
day in Puerto Rico. And one must eat Flan — the national sweet. 
A turned-out caramel custard, our grandmothers called it. On 
a warm day it was "baked" on top of the stove in a heavy, 
covered skillet, the small, brown, syrup-coated custard cups 
set on a rack in simmering water for 25 minutes 

13. i nder the spreading green-and-white-striped tents on the 
rocky shores at New Bedford, Mass., at least 30,000 people will 
be feasting on French-fried scallops, slaw and trimmings 
during the annual Scallop Festival. If New Bedford seems too 
far, i,:akc u bceline for the frozen-food bin.s. 

14. Never enough bacon fo satisfy the Sunday-morning 
crush — r.c >'ntil we began laying the slices side by side on 
racks in ^r. •: paos. Stowed in a 350° oven about 30 minutes. 
No nicking, no rrjming, no fussing. 

' ly of the Virgin Mary. In Armenia, years 
nui, d Mary gave a party 

;• hlijfhTry versus huckleberry battle raging. 

•fk Finn notwithstanding, chances are 
ri'^v other one of you ii,ts ever tasted 
' -vhich has ten large;, hr rd, bony 

17. For his birthday, Davy Crockett Dodgers from his birth 
state of Tennessee: a marvelous, crusty hot bread baked on a 
griddle. Fling together Hi cups cornmeal, 5 2 cup flour, H tea- 
spoon baking soda, 1 teaspoon baking powder, M teaspoon 
salt. Add 2 tablespoons melted fat and U2 cups buttermilk. 
Pat into 8 flat, oval patties. Bake on a hot, greased griddle until 
golden brown and crispy on both sides. 

18. In Anadarko, Okla., begin the ceremonials of the Indians 
of the Plains, who had wily ways with the wild cucumber not 
unlike the Four Seasons, where they are peeled, cut into 
fingers, steamed and sprinkled with chopped walnuts. 

19. Rex Stout's sister Ruth is busily freezing pecks of tomatoes 
out of her garden. How? Just stow whole or halved into con- 
tainers. When thawed, they have the look and feel of a canned 
tomato, but they eat as if this moment picked. 

20. Sweet Com Festival in Sun Prairie, Wis. Will they be 
cooking roasting ears our new way? Covered inch-deep with 
cold water . . . dash of sugar and lemon juice, no salt. Bring to 
full boil 1 or 2 minutes, stand uncovered at least 8. 

21. Hawaii's Admission Day and Lomi-Lomi Salmon is an 
enchanting appetizer-salad. Cut U lb. sliced, smoked salmon 
or lox into small strips. Combine with 2 fresh tomatoes, cut 
into eighths, I green pepper, diced, I large onion, in thin rings. 
Into the refrigerator at least half an hour. Sprinkle with 
chopped scallions or chives. Goes with crusty bread. 

22. Queen Anne's Lace or Wild Carrot flowers make poetry on 
the plate. Simply hold by the stem into pancake batter, drain, 
fry in deep oil about a minute. Strew with cinnamon-sugar. 

23. Time for the fresh green figs, the crenshaws and the honey- 
dew melons. All of them reach their zenith as hors d'oeuvres 
when mated with tissue-thin sliced Italian prosciutto ham, 
cervelat or salami. Befleck with black pepper. 

24. Always on St. Bartholomew's there shall be a mutton 
roast, they used to say. So spear a leg of lamb on the spit. Out- 
doors? Swab, as in Greece, with a halved lemon on a long fork. 

25. In Austria, it's time for the butter to be blessed. 

26. Baby limas plump on the bushes. Even when infant, these 
are tough babies. Be careful not to undercook. 

27. Presidential Chili, because it's L.B.J.'s birthday. Go to no 
end of trouble or heat up 2 cans chili con came, adding 1 table- 
spoon instant onions, M teaspoon thyme, 2 teaspoons cumin 
seed. Serve with rice and dill pickles. 

28. Old-time fiddlers' and country music contest in Brown- 
ville, Nebr., where, on a Sunday moming, you might have 
Panned Ham — thin slices cold, boiled. Tan in butter or 
margarine. Push aside; add I teaspoon each sugar, prepared 
mustard. Two tablespoons vinegar. Whir of pepper. Simmer 2 
minutes. Serve on fresh bread or toast. 

29. Bonfires today on mountaintops from Sweden to Spain. 
And Pasties of St. John the Baptist. Made modernly from 
much-flattened refrigerated buttermilk biscuits (10). For 
filling: I can minced chicken plus 2 tablespoons each 
chopped pimientos, green olives and grated cheese. Turn 
over, crimp, brush with beaten egg. Bake in a hot oven 
(400°)— 15 rninule-s. 

30. Fiacre is a carriage; Fiacre is a saint, for the carriage took 
the pilgrims to the Saint's shrine in the district of the noblest of 
all cheeses, which a poet called "this gentle jam of Bacchus"— 
Brie in France. But the "21" restaurant in Manhattan gets 
its Brie from Lena, Illinois. 

31. Farm festival in Amish land, Lancaster County, Pa. To 
dunk — ginger cookies called Beef Tongues. Prepare a package 
of gingerbread mix according to the directions for cookies. 
Give a little pinch so they look like beef tongues. Sprinkle with 
granulated sugar before baking. 



Go light on summer desserts — 
withJell-O' Gelatin and fruit! 
\\ hat could be lighter? So cool. 
Satisfying. Even refreshing! 
Just folloM this easy chart to 
create the tastiest combinations ! 
\Mth Straw berr> Flavor: 
Tr> straw berries and peaches; 
or Persian melon; 
or apple and banana slices. 
With Raspberr> Flavor: 
Pears and oranges; raspberries 
and nectarines; honeydew balls: 
peaches and green grapes. 
With Mixed Fruit Flavor: 
Bananas, pearsand blackcherries; 


green grapes and peaches; 
blackberries and boysenberries. 
With Cherry Flavor: Bananas 
and oranges; red cherries 
and peaches; black cherries; 

With Orange Flavor: Raspberries 
and honey dew melon; black- 
berries and bananas; 
nectarines and blueberries. 
With Lime Flavor: 
Cantaloupe and green grapes; 
pears and bananas; oranges. 
\N ith Lemon Flavor: 
Peaches and honey dew melon 
red cherries and nectarines; 
strawberries and blueberries. 



to the "I Hate to Cook Book" 

Once upon a time, a lady was gifted 
with a piece of electrical equipment 
that could have been a Chinese noodle 
machine or a 120-volt pretzel bender or 
an electroplated futuristic sock dryer, 
she couldn't tell which. As she was 
making glad cries and wondering, her 
little boy said, with resoluteness, "It'll 
be a good place to hide Easter Eggs." 

He showed the proper attitude here. 
It is important to think positively 
when we can. 

But sometimes there isn't a positive 
side. Only the other day, I saw that they 
have perfected an electric paper-towel 
snatcher, designed to save us all from the 
arduous work of tearing ofif the paper towels 
by hand, which makes you wonder whether 
we're drifting in the direction of a fat- 
wristed society. 

Clearly, new kitchen equipment poses a 
problem for people who hate to cook. Either 
we're reluctant to spend a cent on that 
end of the house, or we're subject to short- 
lived but expensive spasms of buying a new 
gadget in the wistful hope that it will solve 

But we've learned that nothing does. 
We've learned that so many things don't 
work for us the way they work for the dem- 
onstrator. We've learned, too, that some 
things are designed with a certain malev- 
olence to take 10 seconds off the preparation 
time and add 10 minutes to the wash-up 
time, which is no bargain. 

And yet, some things there be— gadgets, 
habits, food products, even attitudes— that 
can take some of the pain out of the kitchen. 

First, there is the matter of equipment. 


It didn't take me long in my kitchen 
career — say, five minutes — to realize that I 
needed another oven or roaster or something. 

Indeed, as Eve discovered when she made 
her first applesauce cake, it required a dif- 
ferent temperature than the ass's-jawbone 
casserole she wanted to bake at the same 
time. All right, she should have thought of 
this earlier and baked her cake in the morn- 
ing. But she didn't. 

When you hate to cook but have to, an 
additional baking and or roasting appliance 
is almost essential, because it helps to com- 
pensatft- for inferior planning and forgetful 
shopping. An appallingly large variety of 
ovens is available, ranging from exi>pnsive 
ones that include rotisseries to simpU r amp 
types. WTiichev<-r kind you get doesn'" mat- 
ter, so long as '.i is easy to clean. And 
operate. With rnosl of us, in the kite! • n, a 
little science goes a long way. 

Then, take the small, cheap, items, 'ike 
measuring spoons. If you hav(- a dishwastu r, 
four or five sets of mea.surin;; spoons an- a 
^eat h*-1p ♦ thf-m up, dropping the/n 
into iH you go. (One set, at, .sh . o/ig-handied rectanguiar- 

bowiff] type, for reaching to the bottom of 
narro V jars.) 

And meaHuriri • Six aren't too many, 
ranging from th' h 7.(- to th*- quart. 

Some things there be— gadgets, 
habits, food products, 
even attitudes— that can take some of 
the pain out of the kitchen. 

Another thing: you owe it to yourself to 
buy enough frozen pies and somehow dispose 
of the contents so that you have a tidy col- 
lection of aluminum-foil pie tins. If you're 
reheating food, or if you sometime feel com- 
pelled to muss some crumbs around in 
melted butter, an aluminum-foil pie tin is a 
good thing to do it in. It feels so here-today- 
gone-tomorrow that you've no hesitation 
about throwing it out instead of washing it. 

Another item of kitchen equipment that 
can make life pleasanter back there is a 
mirror and vanity shelf. Kitchen designers 
put miles of shelves inside cupboard doors 
for you to fill with spice jars. There is no 
reason you can't use one for a mirror and 
makeup. Then, when you're feeling warm 
and ratty around the edges like a bride's 
poached egg, you can do something about 
it on the premises. 


Unfortunately, a pot— stew pot, saucepan, 
double boiler, whatever it is— had better be 
a good pot, if it is in the kitchen of someone 
who hates to cook. Otherwise it won't last 
very long. Its bottom vdW burn out as it 
sits empty on the red-hot burner. Hea\'y 
cast-iron skillets and Dutch ovens are usu- 
ally preferable. 

Additionally, when you specialize in inter- 
rupted cooking (preparing a dish up to a 
certain point, stopping, finishing up later), 
the cast-iron things plus porcelain-coated 
pots or casseroles make considerable sense. 
Then you can reheat it on the stove burner, 
to the point where it was when you left it, 
then finish it in the oven. 

As to smaller gadgets, anyone who doesn't 
have a separate minute-minder yet will pro- 
duce fewer charred cookies after she gets one. 
It's always the last batch that is cremated. 

Another thing: I found that my poached- 
egg performance improved immeasurably 
when I got a poacher. But my English- 
muffin slicer hasn't changed my life any, 
though I know a lady who considers it the 
thing she'd rescue first if her house caught fire. 

As to the little gourmet gadgets, they, too, 
are a highly individual matter. One girl's 
Mouli is anoth(;r girl's mistake. Though it 
is a great little garnisher, it takes an inter- 
minable time to grate or mince sizable 
fjuantitie:H of anything. If you are nicely 
adjusted to a grater for cheese and kitchen 

shears for parsley, you probably won't 
acquire the Mouli habit. Habit has a 
great deal to do with these things. 

And so it goes, each to her own. Good 
pots and good knives, well sharpened, 
seem the main essentials for the person 
who hates to cook— and, oddly enough, 
for the person who likes to. 

As for electrical appliances, they 
should be studied carefully before 
they're bought. One must try hard to 
visualize how they'll fit into one's own 
system — to use the word loosely — of 
running a kitchen. 

Also, should you decide on an electrical 
gadget as fundamental as a can opener, do 
not— in an excess of enthusiasm— throw the 
old hand-operated variety away. In out-of- 
the-way places such as Bolinas (pop. 320) 
and in-the-waj- places like New York (pop. 
7,781,984), the power sometimes goes off. 

And now, before we move on to some pos- 
sibly helpful habits and some new groceries, 
let's stop for a short visit with THE BLENDER. 

For years I thought— foolishly, as it turned 
out— that a blender was something that lique- 
fied turnips and was hard to clean. Then I 
was given a blender, by a lady who owned 
two. Washing it couldn't be easier, and it 
hasn't liquefied a turnip yet. 

What it has done, among other things, is 
improve the weekend lunch situation. Little 
children like to make their own milk shakes, 
which I consider a superb idea if they'll 
clean up after themselves. Even a man who 
isn't especially milk-shake-prone often likes 
one made with a shot of bourbon, and he 
usually won't mind fixing it himself. You can 
suggest that he drop an egg into it, too. 

As for recipes, a blender doesn't exactly fix 
you up pronto with a "dazzling array of epi- 
curean delights," as the box to mine said. 
Indeed, one must be aware of enthusiasts 
who call something "Blender Beef Stew," 
when it contains 18 ingredients, only two of 
which ever see the blender. But it does 
greatly simplify some recipes you wouldn't 
ordinarily bother with. For instance: 


Fill - 3 of the blender with chunked vege- 
tables—cabbage, green or white onions, car- 
rot—then add water to fill the final third 
(two parts vegetables to one part water). 
Flick the switch on and off several times. 
Drain it well in a sieve and repeat till all the 
vegetables are chopped. Proportions for 4 
people would be: 

3 2 medium cabbage 4 green onions 

1 small carrot }i green pepper 

For a dressing, mix: 
} ■> cup sour cream 1 or 2 tsp. sugar 
}{i cup mayonnaise Salt 

2 Tb. vinegar Pepper 

Pour dressing over chopped vegetables and 
mix thoroughly. 


The central fact about chipped beef is that 
few men with military or naval backgrounds 
regard it with any enthusiasm. Hut women 
l)uy it bccau.s*- it kccjis so well. (rouliuuidj 


rl Monte Green Beans bring garden flavor 
I any dish. Clean* snipped and crispy- tender, 
3U always get your money's worth 
th Del Monte. We specialize in beans. 


3 strips bacon 

1 small onion, sliced 

2 tsps. cornstarch 
'/« tsp. salt 

tsp. dry mustard 
1 No. 303 can (1-lb. size) 
Del Monte" Brand 
Cut Green Beans 
1 Tbsp. brown sugar 
1 Tbsp. vinegar 
1 hard-cooked egg, sliced 

Fry bacon in skillet until 
crisp. Remove bacon and 
crumble. Drain off all but 

1 Tbsp. drippings. Add 
onion and brown lightly. 
Stir in cornstarch, salt and 
dry mustard. Drain beans, 
reserving V2 cup liquid. 
Stir reserved liquid into 
skillet. Cook, stirring, until 
mixture boils. Blend in 
brown sugar and vinegar. 
Add green beans and heat 
thoroughly. Turn into 
serving dish and garnish 
with egg, crumbled bacon. 
Makes about 4 servings. 



and Lea & Perrins ... the gnginaj Worcestershire 

Flamenco \ eal Chops. Salt and pepper 6 loin veal chops. Roll in flour. 
Brown in U C. hot oil. Add 10-oz. can beef consomme, 2 tsps. grated lemon 
rind, 1 Tbsp. Lea & Perrins, ^2 C. pitted black olives, '2 C. chopped green 
pepper, '2 C. chopped onion, C. chopped pimento, 2 Tbsp. capers. Cover 
skillet. Cook over low flame 40-45 min. Turn chops occasionally until 
tender. Serves 6 'a 300 calories per serving. 


FREE: New 48-page Cookbook, loo delicious ways to be 

original with Lea & Perrins — the zesty Worcestershire with ^ 
the original and authentic flavor. For Cookbook, write jf^- ;^Ji'>^ 
Lea & Perrins, Box L-86 - — - — .-^i^^^ 

Fair Lawn, New Jersey. 



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PEG BRACKEN continued 

It's like money in the bank, that ever- 
ready jar of chipped beef, waiting on the 
shelf. Which it continues to do, because 
so few men will eat it. 

The following blender-made spread 
makes a good sandwich, especially on 
pumpernickel or dark rye. With frozen 
vegetable soup or frozen green pea with 
ham, you could call it supper. And it 
generally fools the lads and uses up the 
chipped beef. 


In the blender put : 

2 tsp. onion flakes 

2 chopped hard-boiled eggs 

cup chopped celery 
6 or 8 stuffed green olives or a pimiento 
1 1'2 Tb. mayonnaise 
} 2 tsp. prepared mustard 
}i tsp. lemon juice 

Flick the switch on for^6 seconds or so. 
Then chop — because a blender won't re- 
ally grind— the contents of a 5-ounce jar 
of chipped beef, mix it thoroughly, and 
spread it on the pumpernickel. 

Now for some good habits. 

In a spirit of idle inquiry once, I asked 
a couple of friends if there was one thing 
they wished they'd had the good sense to 
do, when they got married. One said, 
marry somebody else. The other said she 
wished, very much, that she had done 
what her sister had done. 

Early on, it seems, her sister had es- 
tablished a tradition: on one day of the 
week (she chose Simday) she didn't 
cook. It was simply a fact of life in that 
household. Mother didn't cook on Sun- 
days, any more than the mail came on 
Sundays. The members of the family 
simply coped for themselves, using 
Saturday night's leftovers and whatever 
else was aroimd. This strengthened their 
characters, the sister felt, as well as giv- 
ing her a refreshing oasis to look forward 
to, every weekend. 

But my friend ruefully admitted that 
she's finding it hard to start a tradition 
after 10 years. 

There are other good habits, however, 
which you can start at any time. 

If yoiu- grocery load includes to- 
matoes, you can start water boiling in a 
saucepan as you put things away. Drop 
the tomatoes in it, leave them about 45 
seconds, and then put them in the re- 
frigerator. The skins will slip off easily 
when you get around to using the to- 
matoes, and a skinless tomato always 
adds a nice touch. That's a good time to 
process the greenery too, according to 
your fashion. 

Another good habit, for the preoccu- 
pied cook, concerns baking or mixing 
anything that requires a number of in- 
gredients. If you set them all forth on the 
kitchen counter and remove the tops- 
then replace each top the moment you 
add the ingredient, you're less apt to add 
something twice or omit it altogether. 

And so we come to the matter of new 
food products. 

First off, a thing to beware of, if it 
costs extra, is the new food product that 
solves problems you didn't know you 
had. Advertisers like to invent food 
problems the way they invent diseases. 

For instance, salad dressing that's 
"homf)genized to cling to greens." If you 
haven't noticed that yours has been 
sliding off, there is no clear advantage 
for you heri'. 

Or round Hpaghctli. If the long kind is 
.1 cliallctivM' to von, .-md chi-ainT, ki-cp on 

buying it; and if the children^ave tro 
ble with theirs, chop it up for them. 

.Accomplished home-economics peoi 
sometimes assume that their audien 
knows more than it does; and for this, 
Socrates said in another context, we m; 
gently blame them. 

Still, we mustn't blame them t 
much. Many of us lead sheltered liv 
where new groceries are concerned. E 
cause oiu' busy little minds are els 
where, we tend to trundle down the sar 
old aisles at the grocer's, buying t 
same old products. This is a shame, t 
cause so many of the new or neu 
products are right down our culina 

For example, bacon that pops out 
your toaster crisp and hot, leaving i 
a droplet of grease behind it, can be 
worth the e.xtra 10 percent it costs, 
you hate to wash skillets and if y 
think the bacon tastes good. 

Or consider the new freeze-dri 
things, like the green bell peppers th 
come chopped in tidy jars and don't ne 
refrigerating. Occasionally you find pro 
ucts that make you wonder how y 
ever in the world made out withe 
them. I put the dried grated orange a 
lemon rind in this category, alotig \v 
the minced dried onions. 

Handy, too, are the packaged p 
seasoned rice or pasta mixtures— s 
fron, curry, Parmesan, and so forth, 
the production of them is almost go 
but frail-flavored, you can hit it nt 
time with some more of its basic flav 
ing and a lump of butter. (If the ba: 
flavoring is curry, simmer the curry 
the butter for a few minutes before y 
add it. ) 

But it is frtiitless to do more th. 
touch upon the swiftly shifting food p 
ture. I doubt if anyone is wholly up wi 
it, including the biggest frozen, canm 
or ready-mixed people. Truly, we live 
a food-minded age, as well as a scie 
tific one, and the result is a marvel 
minute— some major, some minor, a: 
some even bad-tasting marvels y 
wouldn't want to keep up with anj-wa 

Still, there are two things it is w; 
to do. 

One is to make an eagle-eyed explor. 
tory expedition to a good grocery, eve 
month or so when one is in a livei 
eagle-eyed mood, solely to see wha 

The other is to allow, consciously, 
fair margin in the budget for basic : 
search: bujing and trjing new produ' 
to see if they're worth buying again, 
many certainly are. 

.■^Iso, these experimental monies (0 
says monies when speaking of funds ( 
voted to serious purposes) can be e 
ployed to compare various brands of t 
same thing, to see which is best. 

Then make a note on the blackboar 
so you remember next time. There a 
several pumpkin-pie fillings on the mn 
ket, for instance, including one in s 
especially pretty can that makes a i 
markably vile pie. For quite a wh 
that's the one I kept buying, till I final 
wrote it large on the kitchen wall with 
skull and crossbones underneath. 

In a word, we can make an effo 
when we remember to, while keeping 
mind that Science will in all probabili 
stay ahead of us. We will continue 
trot along behind, like fat-legged i"ts 
a picnic. But we do sec a lot of in t 
things along the way. 

(More of Ptx; Bracken's .\i'I'end| 

ill thi' Sfplcrnhcr .lournid. 1 


's a shame more women 
bn't take up writing 

ugh she has brought up four children, America's most popular 
n novelist has managed to write more than 80 books, 
( :ding many bestsellers. Now she offers some 

raging advice to women who want to get more out of life 

J Faith Baldwin 

ik it's very unfonunatc ihat many 
n wiih real Naming talent bury it 
a mountain of dishes, 
ually. writing is one of the iJeal 
sions for women. You don't have 
to an office, >ou don t have to be 
Aith half your mmd on >our house- 
. wondering, if it rains, did sou 
the windows.' And for the woman 
s lied down to her home, writing 
^ a wonderful means of emotional 
e and sclf-expression. to say noth- 
Ihe extra income il can bring, 
y, then, don't more women write? 
:ainly can't be for lack of material, 
are many things that only a woman 
rite about with the knowledge that 
of firsthand experience, 
rhaps that's why — unlike many 
professions — the welcome mat is 
out for women in the writing field, 
we have something special to offer 
own point of view . Take the best- 
Please Don't Eat the Dahifs. No 
mild have written that book! 

t say, "I don't have lime" 

g you "could write"' if you "had 
is no excuse. The fact is that I've 
house to run for most of my life. I 
iKky in that I had some help with 
ousework and the children, but 
are always the "days off" and also 
;>ected illnesses. I think r\e spent 

more time in hospital waiting rooms than 
almost anvone else. 

Even without the responsibilities of a 
home, starting my career wouldn't have 
been eas> . It's hard to learn to write well 
enough to be published when you're 
working all alone. 

I've often wished that when I was in 
mv twenties I had had access to a profes- 
sional writer who would base been honest 
with me. As it was. I learned through re- 
jections and rewriting — the trial and er- 
ror method. 

.After I had become established. I be- 
gan to wonder if there wasn't an easier 
way. Wouldn't beginning writers have a 
better chance of making good, and serve 
a shorter apprenticeship, if they could 
get training in their own homes by well- 
known, successful writers? 

Famous Writers start 
home-study school 

Se>eral years ago such an opportunity 
became available — for the first time — 
to people who want to write. 

I was invited to join w ith eleven other 
authors to sian the Famous Writers 
School. Our aim was to help qualified 
men and w omen de% elop their skill, talent 
and craftsmanship . . . and to pass on to 
them our ow n secrets of achieving com- 
mercial success and recognition. 

We started by writing down all the 

Pboio by Philippe Hahman 

Started the Famous N^nters School: seated (I. to r. >. Bennett Cen Fa: - - 
en Evans. Bruce Cation. Mignon G. Eberhart. John Caples. J. D. Ratciifl. 
'ling. Mark Wiseman. Max Shulman. Rudolf FWsch. Red Smith. Rod Selling. 

techniques of successful writing that we'd 
learned the hard way. and organizing 
them into a set of lexibooks and writing 
assignments. Then we worked out a sys- 
tem for giving every student, through 
home-study, the many hours of indivi- 
dual guidance and criticism that every 
developing writer needs. 

We patterned our teaching methods 
after those of our parent organization, 
the Famous Artists Schools, which has 
trained thousands of men and women 
for successful art careers. 

You are a class of one 

Every instrtjctor is a working profes- 
sional writer or editor who has himself 
met and solved the problem of writing 
for publication many times. 

When you complete an assignment and 
mail it to our School one of these w riter- 
instructors spends up to two hours ana- 
lyzing your work. He blue-pencib im- 
provements right on your manuscript, 
just as my editors often do. Then he sends 
It back to you with a long letter of de- 
tailed comment and specific recommen- 
dations on how to improve your writing. 

The assignments are simple at ttte start 
and gradually become more diallenging. 
You learn step-by -step. After you get the 
basic princi(des. you move on to more 
specialized training in the field of your 
choice: Fiction Writing, Non-Fiction 
Writing. .Advertising or Business Writing. 

Because we 12 who started the School 
have very definite ideas about the teach- 
ing of w riting. we regularly take time out 
from our own work to visit the Scbod 
and confer w ith the instructors. 

And we have another way to help the 
>tudents. Our School publishes the 
Famous Writers Magazine, as a show- 
case for student work. It also features 
anicles by the 1 2 of us who started the 
School by the instructors, and by other 
w riters and editors. 

Students break into print 

Our training works well. Students have 
sold their writing to hundreds of publi- 
cations, incfajding Good Housekeeping. 

Ladies Home Journal. Redbook. True, 
Parents' Magazine and A merican Home. 

"I've now sold six anicles to Woman's 
Day for S2.050." says Doris Stebbins. 
South Coventry, Conn. "Taking your 
Course has made it all possible." Sharon 
Wagner. Mesa. Ariz., writes, "Wi'hcn 1 
enrolled. 1 was an unpublished writer. 
Since then. 1 have made 18 sales and 
now live on my writing income." 

Eileen Thompson Panowski. who took 
up writing when her children showed 
signs of becoming self-sufficient, has had 
four young people's books published by 
Abdard-Schuman. One of tier books was 
recently nominated "best juvenile mys- 
tery of the year" by the Mystery Writers 
of America. And Doris Agee, San Mateo. 
CaL. reporu. "I received a big. beautiful 
check from the Reader's Digest." 

Have you the urge to wiite? If so, get 
biisy! It's a wonderful feeling to see your 
ow n name in print. And that first dbedL, 
no matter what the size, is one of the big 
thrills of a lifetime. 

But the greatest reward youH get f rotn 
writing profes»onally is something mudi 
less tangible . . . the feeling of conmitmi- 
cating with your readers. If only one 
sentence you write opens a door for one 
other human being . . . makes him see 
w ith your ey es and understand w ith your 
mind and heart, youH gain a sense of 
fulfillment that no other wxmIc in the 
world can bring you. 

Writing Aptitude Test offered 

Faith Baldwin and the other Famous 
Writers have designed a revealing Apti- 
tude Test to help you determine if you 
could benefit from professional training. 
The postpaid card, attached, will bring 
you a copy cl the Test, along with a 
4S-page brochure about the SchooL 

Your Test will be graded without 
charge by a member of our staff. If you 
do w ell on it — or offer other evidence of 
writing aptitude— you may enrolL You 
are. however, under no obligation to do 
so. ( If card b missing, write to Famous 
Writers ScfaooL Dept. 6875. Wesqwrt. 
Conn. 06880. Give your name, address, 
age. and ask for Wni\n% Aptitude Test.) 


' Xraining is everything," wrote Mark Twain. "The peach was once 
a bitter almond. . . ." Now it's the rosy-cheeked pin-up of the fruit family — whether through positive thinking, luck or training, who knows? 

Xhe peach's great granddaddy is the small, hard, sour, hairy wild 
peach of China, where the peach tree is called the tree of death by some, the tree of life by others. Although the Chinese 
were cultivating the peach at least 10 centuries before Christ, Persia first got the credit for being its home, because the fruit was 
brought from there into Greece and then Rome about 2,000 years ago under the name "Persian Apple." 

Hungry gourmets in ancient Rome had to shell out the equivalent 
of S4.50 for a single peach. By the time of Queen \'ictoria, in England, peaches had gone up to S5 each, and no exclusive dinner 
party was considered a success unless a solitary hothouse peach was served, nested regally on a bed of cotton wool. 

Luckily, the peach is one of the few good things that have become a 
lot cheaper over the years, especially right now, during the fresh peach season (from May through mid-October, with the peak about now). 

Although there are thousands of varieties of peaches, all are 
either "clingstones" or "freestones." As might be expected, the flesh of the clingstone is attached to the pit, while the freestone sheds 
both its skin and its pit easily. Another distinction is made between peaches with "melting" flesh — soft and juicy — and those 
with nonmelting flesh that holds their shape even when cooked, .\lmost all "clings" have nonmelting flesh, and thus go into 
canned peach halves and slices, while the freestone peaches, with succulent melting flesh, are the ones you'll usually find fresh. 

Xhe best-tasting peaches are the best-looking. Pick a peach with a 
whitish or yellowish (not greenish) background, no brui-ses, fairly firm flesh, and a healthy blush. Biggest news in the world of 
peaches right now is hydrocooling — a new process that cools peaches almost instantly for shipping. Thanks to hydrocooling, peaches 
can now be left on the tree until the last minute, soaking up flavor, sunshine and sweetness. 

Defuzzing is the latest fa.shion note among peaches. Their "woollies'' 
are removed by gentle nylon brushes. A nectarine, by the way, is just a peach born bald. Everybody u.sed to think it was a different 
species, but botanists have found that "nectarines are known to have come from peach seeds and vice versa." 

We're all for peaches and cream — l)ut we've found peaches 
have other glamorous .soul mates, too. The Germans (and the French) love a Peach Champagne Bowie .so much that they have a 

special emperor-size glass for it. They jab a ripe, fresh peach all over with a fork, put it in the stemmed goi)let, pour on 
chilled champagne and mayl>e an ounce of cognac. Grand Marnier or peach brandy. Other intoxicating peach mates: 
fresh sliced peaches top|j< H with a jjour of white port, sherry, orangt- juice or Marsala wine (as served liy New York restaurateur Giovanni). 

Peaches arc not just for dessert. There are peaches spiced, pickled, 
hrandied, broil'-d wiih f hops, baked with ham, tossed into salad or sliced on cereal. 

\Vhcn cooking peaches, knowledgeable chefs in a cracked 
fx-adi pit— it'.s loatlrd with flavor. For fast and perfect peeling, plunge a peach into boiling-hot water for an instant. 
Tf) kf( [) w.iiiiiii' ml |)* ,i'|]( s from turning color, brush with lemon, orange or pineap|)le juice. 

Pcacln-s ( (Jine in lots of |)eachy ways besides in l\y\v skins: 
canned siites and halves, (lr'u <\, in jams, |)i<- fillings, ice cream, biaiidics and liqueurs. — Joan Paulson 


Mluttratlon by Kador* ttnttt 

IVIake every pause 
the pause that refreshes 
M^ith ice-cold Coca-Cola. 
It has the taste you never 
get tired of. That's why 
things go better with Coke 
after Coke after Coke. 


YOL ran easily earn extra money by selling magazine 
subscriptions in your spare time. Thousands of our rep- 
resentatives made their start by asking for our generous 
(■()inniis>ion offer. No obligation. Address a postal today! 


409 Independence Square 

Philadelphia, Pa. 1910S 

What common sense 
tells us about God 

It is easy enough to believe in God 
purely as a matter of instinct. 

It is, in fact, almost impossible to 
believe otherwise when we consider 
the wonders of the universe and the 
marvelously complex nature of man. 
For these surely are the handiwork of 
a Supreme Being — not the results of 
accident or uncontrolled design. 

But if we want truly satisfying an- 
swers to the mystery of life — if we 
want to know beyond doubt whence 
we have come, why we are here, and 
where we are going — we must think 
of our relationship to God in terms 
of what God has told us. 

When we do this we come to an 
inescapable conviction. God has not 
left us to find our own way by instinct, 
by scanning the stars, by slide rule or 
test tube. By words and signs our hu- 
man minds can understand. He in- 
structs us in what we must believe and 
how we must live to fulfill the purpose 
for which He created us. 

The divine truths thus revealed con- 
stitute what we, in our human way, 
call - RELIGION. As Catholics see it, 
nothing in life makes sense without 
religion. For it is through religion that 
God has revealed Himself to man. It 
is only through religion that we can 
find understandable and believable 

answers to the all-important questions 
of life. It is only through religion that 
we can avail ourselves of the grace 
God offers for our sanctification and 
spiritual perfection. 

Catholics believe, as Holy Scripture 
says, that God sent His own Son to 
redeem us from sin . . . to instruct us 
in divine truth ... to restore us in 
grace and the hope of eternal salva- 
tion. We believe that Jesus ... to per- 
petuate His teachings for future gen- 
erations . . . instituted a Church, and 
that His Church exists today as it did 
in the days of the Apostles. We believe 
that the Catholic Church . . . being one, 
holy, catholic and apostolic ... is that 

Religion to Catholics is not just a 
human philosophy to be accepted for 
want of a more logical explanation 
of God, the universe and ourselves. 
Unless we accept God's truths ... we 
must rely on reason alone to under- 
stand life. And where human reason 
answers none of the important ques- 
tions of our relationship to God, re- 
ligion answers them all. 

Your belief in God and the way you 
are to serve Him are explained in our 
new pamphlet entitled "Faith — and 
Common Sense." We'll send it free 
upon your request. And nobody will 
call on you. 

FREE — Ma// Coupon Today! 

Pfeos* i«nd m« free Pomp/Wef untitled: "Faith — and Common Senje," 










3473 SOUTH GRAND, ST. LOUIS, MO. 63118 

1 jO 



Do keep a special pan to use just for 
elets if you are a true omelet lover, 
should be 8 inches in diameter, and 
uld have sloping sides and a longish 

2. Do season a pan before using it the 
first time, to keep omelets from sticking, 
by heating salt in a '4- deep layer over base 
for 10 minutes. Throw 
salt away. Rub pan clean 
with paper towels. Rub 
2 tablespoons salad oil 
(not olive) over the in- 
side of pan. Heat 2 min- 
utes more. Clean again 
with paper towels. Do 
not wash. 

3. Don't despair if you 
don't have a special ome- 
let pan. Season your ev- 
eryday skillet as de- 
scribed above. It will be 
good for 2 to 4 omelets 
before sticking begins. 
Or, if you have one, use 
a Teflon-coated skil- 
let—which is perfect 
every time. 

4. Do heat pan gradually 
before adding the butter. 

5. Do have butter siz- 
zling hoi, but not brown, 
before adding eggs. 

6. Do stir eggs quickly 
(as for scrambled eggs) 
with a fork, approxi- 
mately 30 seconds or 
once around the pan. 
Then, let set just until 
top is beginning to look 

7. Do fold the omelet the 
correct and easy way. 
Hold the pan in your 
left hand. Flip the edge 
nearest the handle into 
c-enter. Flip again so an 
omelet rolled in thirds 
arrives at the farthest 
edge of the skillet. Tilt 
omelet onto platter. 

If you are a purist, 
you will not wash your 
omelet pan, but will rub 
vigorously with paper 
towels and oil inside 
lightly before putting 


Sometimes known as 
Country Eggs or Coun- 
try-scrambled Eggs, 
Squiggled are a simpler, 
more casual and colorful 
version of Scrambled. 

country. Most cookbook recipes for 
Piperade include onions, but in St. Juan 
de Luz, France, home of the Piperade, 
onions are considered absolute heresv. 

Vt cup olive or 

salad oil 
3 cups thin green 

pepper rings 

(2 large peppers) 
3 cloves garlic, 

2 cups peeled, 

diced and seeded 

tomatoes (3 large 


1 slice white bread, 

Vi cup milk 
4 eggs 

Va cup chopped 

2 tsp. salt 

Vz tsp. pepper 

eggs. Sprinkle top surface with reserved 
2 tablespoons chopped parsley. Serve 
from the skillet. Serves 2. 

To stretch this recipe to serve 4 in- 
stead of 2, serve it on toast or ham slices. 


A delicious meal-in-a-skillet ! You've 
heard of Divorce Italian-Style, Marriage 
Italian-Style. Now, here is Omelet Ital- 
ian-Style— excellent practice before 

Now! More body-building protein than a 
peanut butter sandwich. And lots more fun. 

Something new for lunch. Chef Boy-Ar-Dee Ravioli. Tender macaroni pies filled with beef- 
in a meaty tomato sauce. An average serving. can. of Chef Boy-Ar-Dee Ravioli has more 
protein than a bologna, boiled ham or peanut butter sandwich. And twice as much protein 
as a seven oz. bowl of split pea soup, four times more than beef noodle. Chef Boy-Ar-Dee 
Ravioli is better for lunch than most soups or sandwiches — and children love it. 

Chef Boy-Ar-Dee Ravioli® 
(Bite-size Beef Pies) 

pepper and ' s teaspoon ha.sil. In a 9-inch 
oven-proof skillet, slowly heat 2 table- 
spoons olive oil. Pour in beaten egg 
mixture. Stir once, very quickly, with 
a fork. Cook over low heat until top 
surface is barely set. Cover top surface 
evenly with 1 cup sliced mushrooms, 
sauteed, 1 cup julienne ham strips, 
and 1 cup grated mozzarella cheese. Fi- 
nally, sprinkle with '4 cup grated Par- 
mesan cheese. Place under broiler 6 
inches from the heat. Broil 2 minutes 
or until bubbly and pale 
golden brown. Cut into 
wedges. Serve from the 
skillet. Serves 2. 


Bacon, potatoes, onions, 
eggs— all in one dish. 
Here's a breakfast to 
give one strength for 
plowing back to the East 

Va lb. bacon, diced 
2 cups diced 
cooked potatoes 

1 cup chopped 

2 Tb. chopped 

6 eggs 

2 Tb. warm water 
Vz tsp. salt 
Va tsp. pepper 

In a 9-inch skillet, over 
medium heat, fry '| lb. 
bacon, diced, until semi- 
crisp. Add 2 cups diced 
cooked potatoes, 1 cup 
chopped onions and 2 ta- 
blespoons chopped pars- 
ley. Cook 5-10 minutes, 
stirring occasionally, or 
until onions are tender 
and potatoes golden 
brown. Beat 6 eggs, 2 ta- 
blespoons warm water, 
' 2 teaspoon salt and }4 
teaspoon pepper until 
just combined. Pour over 
potato mixture in skillet. 
Stir once or twice to 
blend well. Cover and 
cook over medium heat 
for 5 minutes. Remove 
from heat. Let set 5 min- 
utes, still covered. Loosen 
gently with spatula. In- 
vert onto large round 
serving platter. Cut into 
wedges. Serves 6. 


Here it is — the classic 
omelet ! The use of warm 
water helps to combine 
the eggs, so you needn't 
overwhisk them. You'll 
find that a touch of 
lemon juice or hot pep- 
per sauce cuts down any 
raw-, "eggy" taste. 

1 Tb. butter or v, tsp. pepper 

margarine 2 eggs 

Va tsp. salt 

In an 8-inch skillet, heat 1 tablespoon 
butter or margarine until sizzling hot 
but not brown. Add '4 teaspoon salt and 
' s teaspoon pepper. Add 2 eggs— taking 
care to keep yolks whole. With a fork, 
gently break the yolks into the whites to 
form white and yellow streaks. Serve 
like scrambled eggs— on toast or with 
a garnish of chopped parsley. Serves 1. 


This spicy whole-meat scramble is a fa- 
mous specialty of the French Basque 

In a 9-inch skillet, slowly heal I4 cup 
olive oil. Saute 3 cups thinly sliced green 
pepper rings and 3 cloves garlic > crushed ■ 
for 10 minutes. Add 2 cups peeled, diced 
and seeded tomatoes, draming them very 
well before placing in skillet. Saute 2 
minutes longer, stirring occasionally. 
Meanwhile, soak 1 slice white bread 
(cubed' in '4 cup milk. Press and drain 
off surplus milk. Beat into 4 eggs to- 
gether with 2 tablespoons chopped pars- 
ley ireserse remainder for later use , 2 
teaspoons salt and ' 2 teaspoon pepper. 
Stir eggs into green pepper-tomato mix- 
ture. Cook over low heat for 3 minutes, 
stirring occasionally, as for scrambled 

chancing a classic omelet for the first 
time. The modem way is to finish under 
the broiler and serve from the skillet ; no 

2 eggs 

1 Tb. warm water 

Va tsp. salt 

Va tsp. lemon juice 

1 cup sliced mush- 
rooms, sauteed, 
or 1 (3-oz.) can 
sliced mush- 
rooms, drained 
1 cup julienne ham 

strips lb.) 
1 cup grated 
cheese (V4 lb.) 
Va cup grated 
Parmesan cheese 

Beat 4 eggs together with 2 tablespoons 
hea\-y cream, 2 tablespoons chopped 
parsley, ' 2 teaspoon salt, ' s teaspoon 

4 eggs 

2 Tb. heavy cream 
2 Tb. chopped 

Vz tsp. salt 
Va tsp. pepper 
Va tsp. basil 
2 Tb. olive or salad 


1 grind of black 
pepper or 2 drops 
hot pepper sauce 

1 Tb. butter or 

In a medium bowl, using a fork, wire 
whisk or rotary beater, combine 2 eggs, 
1 tablespoon warm water, I4 teaspoon 
salt, teaspoon lemon juice and 1 grind 
black pepper. Whisk only until well 
blended— HO? /ro^/ii/. Heat an 8-inch om- 
elet pan or heax-y seasoned skillet (pref- 
erably with sloping sides 1. Add 1 table- 
spoon butter or margarine— heating till 
it sizzles but doesn't brown. Add egg mix- 
ture. Stir rapidly with fork once around. 
Reduce heat to medium. {continued) 



Cook until omdet is just set aa surface. 
Loosen with a spatula. F<^d into thirds 
to edge ol skiOet. Tilt out :r.:o saving 
plana-. Serves 1. 


H«*'s miiaeuious Sauce Momay made 
fitHn cheese soup, to use, ii you like, on 
our Omdet Emmental see page S4 in- 
stead of Swiss cheese. Store lefto\-e- 
sauce, wdl coraed, in the refrigerator; 
r^teat it in a double boiler. Great on 
cauMower, broccoU, green beans, too. 

1 (lOK-oz.) can 2 Tb. butter or 
Cl ia^ da r cl i eesc -nargarine 
SMip 2 egg yolks 
cap Kfht cream Dash hot pepper 

iA cup grated sauce 
Panaesan cheese 

In tap of double boilo- ovo' simmering 
water, blend 1 (10*i-az. ' can Cheddar 
cheese soup, }i cup light cream, I4 cup 
grated Parmesan dieese and 2 table- 
^KXKts butter or margarine. Cook 3-3 
minutes, stirring occaacmaUy or until 
sauce is hot. Stir in 2 egg ^-olks that have 
been beatoi with a little hot peppo- 
sauoe. Cook 5 minutes longo- or untO 
sanee is thickened. Stir occasionally. 
Makes 1 ^ cups w oiough fw 4 savings. 


With a green salad, hot, crusty bread, 
ieed coffee or beo-, this is a perfect 
Simday-night supp«-. 

\t cup butter or -7 tsp. salt 

margarine t tsp. pepper 

2 cups thinly Basic Recipe for 2 
sliced onion rings Omelets 


In a medium skillet, slowly heat ^4 cup 
butter or margarine. Saute 2 cups thinl\- 
diced onions fbr 10 minutes, or imtil ten- 
der and g(Men brown. Stir in ^3 tea- 
spoon salt and ^ < teaspoon peppo-. Keep 
warm. Make 2 omelets according to Ba- 
sic Redpe. As eadi is ready, and before 

folding, spoon half of the mion mixture 
tapproximatdy ^ cup^ into center. 
Fold in half and tilt onto platter. Makes 
1 cups filling or enough for 2 mnelets. 


Designed :o be consumed languidl}* in 
^^ew of the Meditaranean, but you ma>- 
substiture your own favorite seascape, 
or whatever scape you love. 

2 Tb. olive or salad 2 cloves garlic 
oil crushed 

2 Tb. butter or 2 Tb. chopped 

margarine parsley 

% lb. shelled 1 Tb, lemon juice 

deveined shrimp Basic Recipe for 2 

In a medium skillet, slowly heat 2 table- 
spoons olive oD and 2 tablespoons butt» 
or margarine. Gently saute ' 2 lb. shdled 
deveined shrimp and 2 doves garlic, 
crushed, until shrimp is t«idCT and pink — 
approximate!}' 5—7 minutes. Stir in 2 
tablespoons dumped parsley and 1 table- 
spocm loncm juice. Keep warm. Make 2 
omelet^ according to Basic Recipe. As 
each is read>', and before folding, spoon 
half of ^irimp mixture into center. Fold 
in half and tflt onto platter. Makes 1^2 
cups filling or Plough for 2 onoelets. 


Ham 'n' eggs the degant way — with 
garlic, onions and pehaps a hint of hick- 
ory smoke. 

2 Tb. butter or 

M cup chopped 

marganne parsley 
^-A lb. (1 cup) '-4 tsp. hickory- 

shredded boiled smoked salt 
ham (optional) 
cup chopped Basic Recipe for 2 

onion Omelets 
1 clove garlic, 

In a medium sauc^>an, slowly heat 2 
table^Mons burto' or margarine. G«itly 
saute 1 cup shredded ham, ^4 cup 
chopped onion and 1 dove garlic, crushed, 
until the onim is tender and transpar- 
oit — i^praximatdy 5 minutes. Stir in 

hidcoi^^-smoked salt. Saute 2 minutes 
longo-. Keep warm. Make 2 omdets ac- 
cording to Basic Redpe. As each is 
read>", and before folding, spoon * 2 cup 
ham tilling into the center. Fold in half 
and tilt onto platter. Makes 1 cup or 
enough for 2 omdets. 


This is the dassic dessert omdet — a mar- 
velous combination of savor>' omelet 
and tart-sweet jell\- presenes. If you 
want to be trul>- dassic, serv^e it glazed. 
Sprinkle the top with 2 tablespoons 
sugar. Heat a metal skewo-, hold it with 
a pot holds' and make lines of caramd 
Ml the top by la\Tng it first one way, 
then another, to form a diamond pat- 
tern. Or, if you don't have a poke- or 
skewer, impro^^se a salamander. Hold 
the bottom 01 a ver>' hot, small, heaw, 
clean filing pan over and ver>- close to 
the omelet. It will mdt and slightlj- car- 
amelize the sugar. 

cup red currant Basic Recipe for 2 
jelly or apricot Omelets 
preserves 2 Tb. sugar 

1 Tb. lemon juice 

In a small saucepan, combine -3 cup 
currant jeJlj- or apricot preserves with 1 
tabl^xMn lemon juice. Heat gentl\-. 
Make 2 omelets acc-ording to the Basic 
Redpe. As each is read\%" and before 
folding, spoon cup warm preserves 
into craiter. Fold in half and tilt onto 
platter. Sprinkle each with 1 tablespoon 
sugar. Makes 2 servings. 


The Pu3y Omelet is a showier version of 
the classic omelet, and requires the extra 
step of separating and beating the egg 
whites. The salt is optional. 

bowl and whites in a medium 8owl. T< 
the yolks, add 1 tablespoon warm wat 
and I4 teaspoon salt. Beat imtil ju 
blended. Using whisk, rotar>- or electrh 
beatw, beat egg whiles until stiff peak 
form. Using a rubber scraper, gently fo 
egg-yolk mixttire into egg whites unt 
just combined. Slowl\- heat an 8-incJ 
omdet pan or hea\->- seasoned skillet 
Add 2 table^xx>ns butter or margar 
heating until it azzles but does 
brown. Quickly turn egg mixtiu* inte 
pan, spreading eveily over base of skillet 
Cook over meditun heat until top begin 
to look drj-. Place imder brofler for J 
minutes 6 inches from heat imtil top i< 
golden brown. Loosen with spatula 
Slide, puffy side uppmnost, on: ; s^r . ing 
plan^. Spoon ova- filling. Makes 
<nnekt. Or, inven onto serving planer, 
broQed side down. Place filling on on 
half. Fold the other half over. 


An omdet with a Latin flavor— a fi 
of colors and spices. 

hk cap olive or salad 

4 (1-lb.) fresh 

tomatoes, peeled 

and sliced 
2 cups sliced fresh 

mushrooms or 2 

(3-oz.) cans sliced 



1 cup diced egg- 

^■2 cup chopped 

1 tsp. chili powder 

^7 tsp. sugar 
tsp. cumin 

Basic Recipe for 6 
Puffy Omelets 

2 eggs 

1 Tb. warm water 
tsp. salt 
(optional) t 

2 Tb. butter or 


cup chopped parsley and 1 « t&spoon Separate 2 eggs, placing yolks in a small 

In a large skillet, slowlj- heat 
olive oiL Add 4 approximately 1 
fresh tomatoes, peded and sliciea, : 
cups diced fresh mushrooms, 1 cuj 
diced eggplant, ^2 cup chopped scal- 
lions, 1 teaspoon diili powder, 
spoon sugar and ^4 teaspoon 
Stir to blend well. Saut^ 15-20 minut 
or until thickened and eggplan: 
teider. Keep warm whDe making 
Puffy Omelets according to redpe above 
Spoon ^2 sauce over each omele* 
after folding. Makes 2^2-3 cups sauc 
or eiough for 6 omdet senings. E N 1 

1 cap white beans, 

1 cup pinto or 

cranberry beans, 

^ cup chopped 


comtiMuai from page 66 


Each persm in the United States eats 
about 8 pounds of beans every year. 
Figure, out your family's quota and 
start filling it with this salad, made with 
three different kinds <A bear s '. 

1 oip dried fava or V& cap chopped and 
drained bread and 
butter ptckJes 
M cup clwpped 
parsley • 
cup salad oil 
■ t cup apple cider 

1 tsp. salt 
V« tsp. p e p per 
spiwacii l e a v es 

ToBB together 1 cup each fa^-a or lima 
beans, whi:- ,r cran- 

berry bean^ ' • cup 

each onion, ara. er 
pickles and pars.-. . .ur 

on dreaeing made from ' up salad 
oil, '4 '-.T ?.;'V nr. - 1 tea- 

■poon V r. Chill 

coverfjo . 
frigcrator < - 

utea in the ..• - a . 

freah apinach leave-. ii>oJt 2 cups. Six 


Check the direct 
More fixing thia aaia . 
lentib need aoaking 
types are at<«D-tmt«<) arr 

30-45 minutes with little or no pre- 
soaking. In the Romance countries, 
beans are often boiled with a carrot, 
which is later discarded. This, they say, 
makes th^ highly' digestible and adds a 
subtle wink of flavor. 

1 cup C-'z lb.) lentils hi cup olive or 
-4 cup chopped salad oil 

onions 2 Tb. wine vinegar 

-i cup coarsely l-j tsp. salt 
chopped radishes tsp. pepper 

2 cloves garlic 3 large tomatoes 



C • k 1 cup lentils accOTding to labd ns. Drain wdL While still hot, 
combine with I4 cup chopped oni<Hi, *i 
cop chopped radishes, 2 doves garlic, 
crushed, ^ 2 oup dive oQ, 2 tablespoons 
wii»e \inegar, 1 ' 2 tea^xwos salt and 
tea^KKA pepper. Chill at least 1 hour. 

Cut tomatoes crosswise. Scoop out 
seeds and pulp. Chill. At serving time, 
fill each of 6 tomato hal\-es with about 
3^ cup lentil salad. Place on platter. 
Garnish with watercress. Scr\-e any re- 
maining lentfl salad separately in a 
t-owl. Ser. es 6. 

Be careful not to marinate the beans and 
artichokes more than half an hour, or 
the green color will turn dull. Serve this 
salad with hot garlic-buttered French 
bread or hard roOs. 

2 (9-oz ) pkg. 'j4 cup red arin* 
Iroxen Italian vinegar 

styl* gr««n be 'it, 1 tsp. onion juice 

cooked 1^ cup diced 

1 (9-ox.) pkg f ro.- .-n pimiantoet 
artichoke hearts, cup olive or 
cooked MiJd oil 

^7 tsp. salt -4 tsp. crushed 

^7 tsp. powdered rosemary 
oregano h% tsp. pepper 

To 2 9-oz. pkg. frozen Italian-style 
green beans and 1 9-oz. pkg. frozen 
artiehoke hearts, cooked separatdy ac- 
CMxiing to label directions, then drained 
and cooled, add ^4 cup diced pimieitos. 
Cover and chill. Make dressing sep- 
arately by combining U cup olive oil 
with ^4 cup red wine vinegar, 1 tea- 
spoon onion juice, 1 2 tea^xwn salt, ' 2 
teaspoon powdered <»egano, I4 tea- 
^xwn crushed ro9»nar%' and } s tea- 
spoon p^per. Lightly toss and chill 
wdL To ser\'e: drain beans and arti- 
choke hearts from the dressing, using a 
slotted spoon. Mound on saving plat- 
ter. Sen e extra dressing alongside, if 
desired. Senses 6. 


Pack up this salad in a glass jar or 
plastic container, cover with foil and 
whisk it off to a picnic or barbecue. So 
eas>' and so complete! 

3 (1-lb.) jars wai 
beans, drained 
or 4 lb. fresh wax 
t>eans. cooked 
(about 4 or 5 

1 cup sliced fresh 

H cup thinly sliced 

1 cup Italian-style 
salad dressing 

2 small heads Bibb 

Place 4 to 5 cups cooked and cooled wax 
beans, drained, in a large bowl. Tos.s 
with I cup sliced fresh mushrooms, ■ 
cup thinly sliced greeD-pcppo- rings and 

1 cup Italian-stA'Ie salad dressing. Le: 
chill at least 1 hour in rdrigoator or 15 
minutes in the freezer. To serve: drain 
beans from dressing. Place on shalla 
serving planer surrounded by Bibb let- 
tuce leaves. Sabres 6. 


The Bean has oft«i been the subject of 
superstition, bdieved to possess strange 
blade magical powers, said to effect cure 
and trances. Practice your own sorcerj 
and charm everv'one with this salad ! 

2 (1-lb.) cans pork 1 tsp. salt 
and beans tsp. pepper 

4 cups cooked rice. 3 = " 

cooled ^-2 cup angel flake 
'4 cup chopped coconut toasted 

onions 12 lime slices 
r ■ (approximately 2 

1:.: - .onnaise whole limes) cut 
) powder in halves 

Drain 2 1-lb. 1 cans pork and beans 
wdL Rinse with cold water. I 
again. Place in a large bowl tog< 
with 4 cups cooked, cooled rice a: 
cup chopped onion. Toss gently. F^ 
1 cup mayonnaise, 1 teaspoon euro 
powder, 1 teaspoon salt and teaspoaa 
pepper. Mound ev'enly on a shallow pla^ 
ler. Sprinkle ' ^ cup toasted coconut 
make a border around the edge. Garnish 
edge of platter with overlapping hal\i 
lime alioea. Chill in rdrigerator for at 
least 1 hour or in freerer for 1 5 minut< 
Sis servings. 


H»-a.ny t-ii<.ui;ti tn strve as a main d 
at lunch or with cold 


The box lunch — 54 years ago. 
Even then/ people found ways to 
bring the Morton Salt along. 
It was a tradition. 

Today/ people carry on that tradition 
with Morton portable, disposable, 
pre-filled Miniatures and Salters. 
That's progress. 

When it rains it pours. 

BIG BEAN SALADS continued 

ham, tongue or corned beef at supper. 
Flavors deepen and become more de- 
licious as salad cools. 

2 cups) and 
lightly cooked 

2 cups cubed, 
cooked potatoes 

Vi cup salad oil 
V3 cup tarragon 

2 Tb. prepared 

1 clove garlic, 


1 tsp. salt 

Vs tsp. pepper 

2 (15-oz.) cans red 
kidney beans 

2 cups onion rings 
1/2 cup cucumber 
slices, quartered 

Blend together 14 cup salad oil, H cup 
tarragon \nnegar, 2 tablespoons pre- 
pared mustard, 1 clove garlic, crushed, 1 
teaspoon salt and teaspoon pepper. 
Drain and rinse under cold water 2 
(15-oz.) cans red kidney beans. Drain 
again. Toss together in a large bowl 
with 2 cups onion rings and } 2 cup cu- 
cumber slices, quartered. Pour the 
dressing over this. Toss very well. Cover 
with plastic wrap and refrigerate at 
least 1 hour — tossing occasionally. Serve 
in a large shallow platter garnished with 
watercress, if desired. Six servings. 


In Germany, all of the vegetables in this 
salad would be "leftovers." We find it 
worthwhile to cook lima beans, cauli- 
flower and diced potatoes separately, 
and use in the salad. Drain well and 

1 cup sour cream 
V2 cup mayonnaise 
Va cup chopped 

14 cup chopped 

2 Tb. horseradish, 

1 tsp. salt 

V2 tsp. powdered 

shallot or 1 

shallot, chopped 

Va tsp. pepper 
1 (10-oz.) pkg. 

frozen baby lima 

beans, cooked 
1 medium head 


or 2 (9-oz.) pkg. 



broken into 

flowerets (about 

In a large bowl, mix 1 cup sour cream, y, 
cup mayonnaise, '4 cup chopped onion, 
I4 cup chopped parsley, 2 tablespoons 
horseradish, drained, 1 teaspoon salt, } 2 
teaspoon powdered shallot and {4 
teaspoon pepper. Add lima beans, cau- 
liflower and potatoes. Toss gently but 
thoroughly with forks. Do not use a 
spoon. Cover with plastic wrap and chill. 
Keep the salad in a refrigerator for about 
an hour, or place in freezer for quick 
cooling. Be sure to toss once or twice as 
the salad chills. Leave in freezer no 
longer than 20 minutes. Serve in a large 
bowl, surrounded by salad greens, if you 
like. Serves 6. 


This method eliminates the need for 
soaking dried beans overnight. It also 
shortens cooking time. The method can 
be applied to any dried beans that have 
not been treated before packaging. 

1 lb. dried lima 

beans (2 cups) 
1 tsp. 

bicarbonate of 

1 (3y4-oz.) jar 

capers, undrained 
1 (2-oz.) can 

anchovy fillets, 


Va cup olive oil 

Vz cup sliced pitted 

black olives 
2 cloves garlic, 

V/2 teaspoons salt 
Va teaspoon pepper 
2 hard-cooked eggs, 


Cover 1 lb. dried lima beans with 4 
cups boiling water; add 1 teaspoon 
bicarbonate of soda. Let stand 1 hour. 
Drain and rinse well. Place in large 
saucepan; cover with 4 cups water. 
Bring to boil. Cover and cook gently 
about 40 minutes or until tender. Drain, 
rinse and cool. Place in large bowl. 

Add 1 (3 '4-oz.) jar capers, with their 

Drain oil from 1 (2-oz.) can anchovy 
fillets and enough olive oil to make ' 2 
cup oil altogether. Toss salad with } 2 
cup sliced pitted black olives, chopped 
ancho\"y fillets, 2 cloves garlic, crushed, 
1,'2 teaspoons salt and '4 teaspoon pep- 
per. Cover with plastic wrap. Chill at 
least 1 hour in refrigerator or 20 min- 
utes in the freezer, tossing occasionally. 
To serve: mound on large shallow plat- 
ter. Garnish with 2 sliced hard-cooked 
eggs. Serves 6. 


Beans, apples, golden raisins, oranges 
and walnuts! The tangy and sweet 
fruits mix their flavors to produce the 
exotic taste of this salad. A dish that 
might have been served to the sound of 
flutes in the Hanging Gardens of 
Babylon— fine for penthouses ! 

1 (10-oz.) pkg. 
processed white 
beans (2 cups) 

1 cup yogurt 

Va cup chopped 

2 Tb. lemon juice 
1 tsp. salt 

V, tsp. pepper 
1 (1-lb.) carton 


cottage cheese 

(2 cups) 

1 cup coarsely 

diced unpeeled 

Vz cup golden 

Vz cup chopped 

1 tsp. salt 
'/, tsp. pepper 
Fresh watercress 
Vz cup orange 


Cook 1 (10-oz.) pkg. processed white 
beans according to label directions. 
Drain, rinse in cold water and cool. 
Combine with 1 cup yogurt, }4 cup 
coarsely chopped watercress, 2 table- 
spoons lemon juice, 1 teaspoon salt and 
3 8 teaspoon pepper. Cover with plastic 
wrap. Chill. In another bowl mix 1 
(1-lb.) carton large-curd cottage cheese, 
1 cup coarsely diced unpeeled apples, 
cup golden raisins, y cup chopped 

walnuts, 1 teaspoon salt and leu- 
spoon pepper. Cover with plastic wrap. 
Chill. To .serve: mound cottage-cheese 
mixture in center of a large .serving plat- 
ter. Surround it with the wliite bean 
salad. Garnish with fresh watercress and 
}<2 <"up orange wedges. Serves 6. 


We know that even in prehistoric times 
men thrived on beans. The ancient 
Egyptians considered the bean the em- 
blem of life. But this Orientally in- 
spired bean salad is strictly Modern 
Living ! 

1 lb. sliced cooked 
roast beef 
(about 12 slices) 

1 cup salad oil 

Vz cup cider vinegar 
Va cup soy sauce 
Va cup chopped 

2 Tb. chopped 

2 cloves garlic, 

1 tsp. salt 

Va tsp. pepper 

2 (9-oz.) pkg. 
frozen cut green 
beans (cooked, 
drained and 

Vz cup sliced 

Roll 1 lb. of cooked roast-beef slices 
jelly-roll fashion. Place on a large shal- 
low serving platter. 

Combine 1 cup salad oil, >2 cup cider 
vinegar, y cup soy sauce, y cup 
chopped onion, 2 tablespoons choppi il 
chives, 2 cloves garlic, crushed, 1 tt;i' 
spoon salt and y teaspoon peppt 1 
Pour over the roast-beef rolls. Com i 
with plastic wrap and chill well. 

Toss together 2 (9-oz.) pkg. grti li 
beans (cooked, drained and cooled) ai: i 
3-2 cup sliced scallions. Arrange arouiul 
roast beef on platter. Spoon the mar- 
inade over all. Return to the refrig- 
erator. The beans will lose their color if 
they sit in the dressing for more than 
an hour, so chill, and serve soon. Makes 
6 servings. end 


continued from page 82 


A Bavarian dish with a somewhat 
ironic name, "Hunter's Cabbage," or 
what the hunter ate when the game got 
away. There are two rules: Never use 
weary vegetables; never allow the eon- 
tents to boil. 

Vz pound bacon or 2 tablespoons flour 

sausages Salt, cracked 

2 or 3 large potatoes pepper, and cider 
1 small head vinegar to taste 

cabbage Vz pint sour cream 

or yogurt 

Fry the bacon in a frying pan with a lid. 
Drain off most of the fat and add thick 
slices of peeled potatoes and cabbage. 
Sprinkle flour over the vegetables, add 
water to barely cover \Ed. note : about 2 
cups of boiling water], along with salt 
and a dash of vinegar. Cover and cook 
slowly 4.5 minutes to an hour. Serve 
along with a bowl of sour cream, cracked 
pepper, and a little cruet of vinegar for 
those who like sharper flavor. Rye bread 
and butter and a salad of apples and 
raisins round out this meal. Serves 4. 
Kd. note: This recipe makes a wonder- 
ful, thick Htewlike dish. We experi- 
mentefj and discovered that the result 
was smo(>thfer and more like a rich 
mfcat-and-vf?getable soup if we held 
back adding the cabbage until the other 
ingredienU had cooked Ujgether for 1.5 
minuUfft. Cfxik all for 10 minutes more. 
Sprinkle with 1 tablespoon caraway nttcA 
just bf-fore Herving. 


Poor \><if\jn of the Far Kast, were eating 
macaroni prfHluct* in ."jOOO li.c. An<i 

today's poor poet, if he chose, might 
spend a lifetime of macaroni dinners 
without ever repeating the same recipe 

1 pound spaghetti 1 cup (packed) 

or vermicelli chopped parsley 

6 tablespoons and/or fresh 

olive oil basil"^ 
4 cloves garlic 4 tablespoons 

Parmesan cheese 

While the spaghetti is cooking (but not 
overcooking) in a caldron of boiling 
salted water, concoct the sauce. Heat 
olive oil and simmer the finely chopped 
garlic until it is golden. Toss in the 
parsley and/ or basil, and continue cook- 
ing for 2 or 3 minutes. Now sprinkle in 
some black pepper, and the sauce is 

Drain the spaghetti and then dump 
it into a warm bowl along with the but- 
ter and sauce. Mix with care and indus- 
try and serve topped with lots of grated 
cheese. Serves 6. 

*Ed. Note: Use 1 cup chopped parsley 
and 1 tsp. dried basil leaves when fresh 
basil is not available. 


Almost anything that is good between 
two slices of bread is better in a bread- 
loaf. The loaf ils<'lf, scoojjed out, is a 
bread dish. It is filled with a combina- 
tion of ingredients and the bottom crust 
is refitted as a lid. When it comes to the 
table, it'H devoured —dish and all. 

1 round loaf French 1 teaspoon chili 
or milk bread* powder 

V/z pounds ground 1 tablespoon 
beef horseradish 

Vz cup bread Va cup chopped 
crumbs* onions 

Vz cup chili sauce 1 clove garlic 
1 teaspoon (crushed) 

Worcestershire 1 teaspoon salt 

sauce Pepper 

1 teaspoon vinegar Fat or oil 

Scoop out the loaf and set aside. Com- 
bine all the other ingredients. Brown in 
some hot fat, stirring so that the mix- 
ture is crumbly. Drain excess fat from 
time to time. When the meat is almost 
done, drain fat finally and well and stuff 
the meat into the loaf. Wrap in brown 
paper \Ed. note: or foil] and bake 15 
minutes at 425°. Serves 4 to 6. 
*Ed. note: Use the center of the loaf for 
crumbs. You may substitute a long 
French bread loaf if there is no round 
or milk bread available. 


Cold soups invite experimentation. They 
may be of almost any (but not every) 
combination. And if the weather sud- 
denly changes, most can be transferred 
to the stove and served steaming. 

3 cups yogurt 2 teaspoons minced 

1 cup water mint leaves 

2 cups finely diced 3 tablespoons 
cucumbers minced green 

Vz cup currants onions 
Vz teaspoon dill 1 tablespoon 
weed minced parsley 

Salt and pepper 

Beat the yogurt and water until smooth. 
Stir in the other ingredients and chill 
well, preferably overnight. Serves 4. 


This is a hungry poet's salad. Serve 
with a crisp roll and butter, and a sip 
of wine. 

3 tablespoons 
chopped salted 

6 tablespoons sour 

2 cups shredded 

1 firm pear, cored 

and diced 

1 tablespoon cider 

Vz teaspoon celery 


Toss all ingredients and chill before 
serving. This is also good hot, served 
with mashed potatoes. In this case, 
steam the cabbage until it is just wilted 
and then toss with other ingredients. 
Serves 4 to 5. 


The advantages of this soup are several- 
fold. It takes neither stirring nor watch- 
ing over a steamy kettle, although its 
total effect is that it was brewed there. 

1 one-pound can 3 tablespoons 
shoestring beets lemon juice 

1 lOVz-ounce can Vz teaspoon salt 
condensed V» teaspoon pepper 
bouillon 1 tablespoon 

2 cups buttermilk chopped onion 

3 tablespoons 
brown sugar 

Dump all the ingredients into a bowl or 
jar, stir well, cover, and chill thor- 
oughly, preferably overnight. Serves 4. 


This, with toasted rye crackers or water 
biscuits with anchovies, cherry toma- 
toes in a bowl of ice, and deviled eggs 
(in this case skip the grated egg on the 
soup), makes a memorable lunch. 

1 can condensed Lemon, sliced paper 

black bean soup thin, or grated 
1 soup can water hard-cooked egg, 
1 jigger sherry, or or sour cream 
more (or 1 
tablespoon rum) 

Combine the soup, water and sherry or 
ruin. Heat well and allow to chill several 
liours. Serve in mugs or small bowls, 
Willi the lemon or grated egg on toj), or 
a gob of HDiir creiirn. Servr's 2 to '.I. 



Opm op an oran^. 
and see the sansnme 

A Sunkist Orange is going to do great things for you! It packs 
a wealth of natural Vitamin C — plus 50 other nutrients. And it's 
brimming with fresh, golden juice and bright, sunny flavor. Only 
after they're inspected over and over again for goodness and 
flavor do oranges earn the famous Sunkist stamp. If you could see 
inside oranges, you'd buy Sunkist every time! 



from California-Arizona 

COOKBOOK icontinucd) 


This is good witli, among other things, 
meat and cheese with crisp rolls, butter 
and wine. 

Vt cup olive oil 

1 cup water 

2 tablespoons wine 

V2 teaspoon salt 
4 peppercorns 
2 stalks parsley 
teaspoon each 

chervil, tarragon 

and thyme 
1 bay leaf 
1 clove garlic, 


3 or so cups of any 
or all of the 
following: sliced 
zucchini, mush- 
rooms, diced egg- 
plant, sliced 
onion, sliced 
carrots, asparagus 
stalks, celery 
hearts, cauli- 
flower buds, 
green beans, 
sliced green or 
red peppers. 

Combine all ingredients e.xcept the 
vegetables and bring to a boil. Add 
vegetables and simmer until they are 
barely tender. Remove vegetables and 
simmer the sauce until it is reduced by 
half. Strain it over the vegetables and 
chill well before serving. Serves 4 to 6. 


In the hills of Berkeley is an old red- 
wood house withashowerstall made from 
a telephone booth. On Telegraph Hill 
across the Bay is one made from a large 
wine vat. And this recipe is for the own- 
er's special potato salad. 

2V2 pounds potatoes 

1 cup dry white wine 
4 hard-cooked 

eggs, chopped 

2 stalks celery, 

1 onion, chopped 

2 tablespoons 

2 tablespoons 
chopped parsley 

Boil or bake the potatoes until tender, 
peel them, and slice into a bowl. Pom- 

1 tablespoon celery 

1 tablespoon 

seasoning salt 
V2 teaspoon pepper 
4 tablespoons 

French dressing 
Vi cup each 

mayonnaise and 

sour cream 

the wine over the hot potatoes and let 
sit for about an hour.* In the meantime, 
mix together all other ingredients and, 
hoping the potatoes are still somewhat 
warm, fold the sauce into them. The 
result should not be mashed potato 
salad. Chill well for several hours be- 
fore ser\'ing. The potato-salad addict 
might like a change now and then, so 
substitute dill weed and a little chopped 
pickle or olives for the capers; or use 
caraway instead of celery seed. Serves 8. 
*Ed. note: This will give you quite moist 
salad. If you'd like it a bit drier, drain 
off '3 cup of the wine before adding 
other ingredients. 


Mt)st yeast breads result in a floury 
kitchen and considerable time con- 
sumed. A large bowl of rising dough is a 
bed adored by kittens. Contrarily, this 
yeast bread requires only one bowl and 
a baking pan. It requires very little 
watching. And a cardboard carton turned 
over the rising dough will foil the most 
charming kitten. 

1 pound whole 1 tablespoon sugar 

wheat flour* 1 teaspoon salt 

1 package dry yeast Warm water 

Mix flour, salt and sugar in a large bowl 
and make a well in the center. Into this 
pour the yeast that has been dissolved 
in about 2 tablespoons of warm water. 
Then add 1 ' 2 cups warm water and 
stir well with the best wooden spoon. 
The mixture should be soft and sticky. 
Pour the dough into a (/('//-greased 
bread pan, cover with a cloth, and set in 
a warm place to rise for about '2.0 min- 
utes. The dough should come just to 
the top of the pan. Bake at 425° for ap- 
proximately 1 hour. A good test for 

doneness is to thump the bottom of the 
loaf; it should sound hollow. 
*Ed. )iolc: All whole wheat is very 
crusty and rough; many of us here pre- 
ferred using half white flour. We also 
baked the bread in a smaller pan 
(8 < 2X4 ' 2X'2 • 2) to make the loaf fat. Be 
sure to eat the bread while it is fresh ! 


Poor poets such as Robert Burns loved 
to eat these oatcakes on the heath. You 
can taste these crunchy, very nutritious 
goodies yourself; you mix them with 
your hands. 

1 cup sifted flour VA cups rolled oats 
1 tablespoon sugar % cup wheat germ 
1 teaspoon baking V3 cup shortening 

powder V2 cup milk 

V2 teaspoon salt 

Sift flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. 
Relying on hands, not spoons, blend in 
oatmeal, wheat germ and shortening. 
(Butter-lovers or those not too short of 
funds might prefer to use some or all 
butter here.) Pour in milk and mix until 
sticky. Do this also with the hands; it's 
easier and, besides, oatmeal and milk 
are great for the skin. Divide dough 
into eight balls and roll fairly thin on a 
floured board. Cut each round partw; y 
through into wedges. Bake at 375° for 
15 to 20 minutes or until crisp and light 
brown. Serves 8. 


A wonderful, fancy and rich, rich des- 
sert made easily and at small expense. 


sponge cake 
1 pound ricotta 

IV2 cups sugar 
V4 teaspoon salt 
Va cup grated semi- 
sweet chocolate 

3 tablespoons 
chopped candied 

3 tablespoons rum 
or orange-flower 

Slice the sponge cake an inch tHick and 
line an 8-inch spring-form i)an. Beat all 
the other ingredients and pour into the 
mold. Top with additional slices of cake 
that have been crumbled. Refrigerate 
overnight, and when ready to serve, re- 
move the cake from the mold and dust 
with powdered sugar and a few slii'es of 
blanched almonds, if they're available. 
Serves 8 to 10. 


There is absolutely nothing so nice on a 
summer day as a big crystal bowl full of 
Floating Island. 

For the custard: 

2 cups milk 

3 egg yolks 

V2 teaspoon vanilla 
Va cup sugar 
Va teaspoon salt 

Scald the milk in a double boiler. Beat 
the egg yolks with the sugar. Slowly add 
the hot milk to the yolks, stirring con- 

Return the mixture to the dou- 
ble boiler and continue stirring and 
cooking until the custard thickens and 
a thin coating is formed on the spoon. 
Add salt and vanilla and pour into a 
serving dish. 

3 tablespoons 
powdered sugar 

For the islar)ds: 
3 egg whites 
1 teaspoon vanilla 

Beat the whites until stiff, then gradu- 
ally add the sugar and vanilla. Place by 
spoonfuls on hot, not boiling, water and 

Test in a few minutes by running 
a knife through an island. If the knife 
comes out clean, the islands are done. 
Place them on the custard and chill well. 
Serves 6 to 8. 
Ed. note: We all found this so delicious 
that we advise you to make double the 
recipe while you are about it. END 

See! Today's Cascade stops spots before they start! 

See how even clean wat 
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they Start! Its amazing "sheeting action" lets dishes 
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approves it. Today's Cascade — wow! 


h lined from puye 73 

L.B.J, enough to beat him handily— 
111 consistently. (He's still the only 
ember of the White House inner circle 
ith both the nerve and the skill to 
:iim that record.) 

But Fat concedes that beating the 
-csident at bowling was a far less 
rniidable challenge than proposing to 
r President's daughter— and then 
aring it with L.B.J. 
By last September, Nugent had con- 
!> il to a friend that he wanted to ask 
iri to marry him, and was worried 
)cjLil how to go about it. How did the 
leslioii finally get pop|)ed? Pat paused 
loughtfully, then told me with a per- 
ctly straight face: "It was on October 
cond. Luci got down on her knees and 
•oposed to me." 

Luci sat bolt upright at this. "Pat!" 
le cried. 

"Well, one knee." 

"PATRICK! Everybody will believe 

He proposed three times 

In the interests of accuracy, Luci 
Tered her version: "He proposed in 
lurch at Friday Mas.s, and I said yes," 
e said. "He really asked me three 

Nugent grinned. "The first time she 
dn't hear, the second time she didn't 
lieve me, and the third she accepted," 

Luci made another wry face in his 
jection, and tossed a small wadded 
iece of paper at him. He ducked it ex- 
ly. It turned out that the second 
posal had occurred in late October, 
hen Pat had his fraternity pin made 
to a ring for her. The third and last 
was at Christmas, when he offi- 
illy presented Luci with her diamond 
igagement ring. 

The headlines noted that President 
id Mrs. Johnson were not at first over- 
bed at the prospect of their lively 
ounger daughter marrying before she 

ished college. But they gave in with- 
Jt much of a tussle. "It's a bunch of 
alarkey," Luci declares warmly, that 

B.J. objected to her setting the date 
T this summer. 

"She's so happy," the President re- 
arked to friends as far back as last fall. 

told her I'd go along with whatever 
16 wanted." 

"The rest of us may wobble about 
)mething, but not Luci," Mrs. Johnson 
ys. "She's the one person I know who 
lakes up her mind and sticks by it." 

Luci says she never worried for a min- 
te that her mother and father might 
ave been harder to persuade. "My 
arents aren't little people— they have 
ever refused to talk things over with 
e, and to respect my decisions," she 
ys. "But I can't really say they've al- 
ays let me have my way, either. You 
aow, even with something as little as a 
)okie— when I was small— they'd never 
ist say 'yes,' or 'no'; they'd always try 

sit down and talk about it. It's like a 
other who lets her little girl carry the 
est china from room to room— that 
ttle girl just wants so badly to tiptoe 
nd be very careful." 

In fact, Pat and Luci's summit talk 
'ith L.B.J, was, like most things, more 
ifficult to face than to do. They spilled 
his little secret recently to the Presi- 
ent's favorite secretary, Victoria 
IcCammon, when she, too, was plan- 
ing to get married and had to tell the 

President she expected to quit her job 
soon after the wedding. The President 
took the blow with admirable restraint, 
and shortly thereafter Vicki got a fancy 
scroll from Luci. It said: 

"We bestow upon thee the medal that 
few win, but all covet, for successful 
completion of the greatest hurdle of 
all -THE talk with THE President. 
We are glad to count you among our 
ranks, and wish you the greatest happi- 
ness in the world. Issued from the Great 
White Zoo by the co-presidents of the 
Greatest Hurdle Society, Luci Johnson 
and Pat Nugent." 

It soon became evident that the Presi- 
dent and Lady Bird thought Pat Nugent 
was the very model of an ideal White 
House son-in-law. In fad, L.B.J, re- 
cently gave him an all-out endorsement 
that a candidate for any other position 
would dream about. "Pat," said the 
President, "is a sensitive, intelligent 
man who handles himself with extraor- 
dinary poise." 

The President also likes the way Pat 
has handled his unique and vulnerable 
situation as "the man who's engaged to 
Luci Johnson" dancing at the White 
House, meeting dignitaries from all over 
the world, becoming an instant national 
celebrity, facing the inevitable daily 
batch of letters from people who de- 
nounce him as an opportunist or worse 
L.B.J, told friends recently that "Pat'."- 
been trying very hard to hold up his 
end. He has never asked me for any 
thing not even to borrow a car." 

(Because he was embarrassed at being 
driven around town by Luci in her 
snappy green Sting Ray, Nugent pre- 
vailed upon his own father for the loan 
of the family's 1!»6.'J Plymouth sedan 
Now Pat drives, and Luci usually leaves 
her car at home. ) 

Pat also smarted from criticism whetj 
he was transferred from his home air 
guard unit in Milwaukee to the 113th 
Tactical P'ighter Wing at .Andrews Air 
Force Base, a half hour's drive from the 
White House. He felt compelled to do 
extra K.P. duty, to volunteer for the 
hardest jobs, and to li%'e on base (even 
though other reservists in his unit took 
comfortable apartments in town ). And 
he is so sensitive to the charge that the 
President may be helping him along that 
he quit a job on the staff of the Senate 
Commerce Committee. 

"Nobody really knows Pat" 

"Although Luci was reared on a diet of 
publicity spiced with criticism, she finds 
it harder to take this pressure. "I try to 
put on a hard shell and pass it over," she 
confesses, sighing, "but it hurts, and I 
never really get over it. Pat is wonder- 
ful—he's been so good about it. He 
hasn't said anything or made any mis- 
takes—like I still do. Nobody really 
knows Pat except my family and me — 
but it's got to be that way, it's our 
private life." 

Apart from Pat's trial by fire as a 
brand-new White House celebrity, the 
second biggest hurdle he and Luci had 
to face was introducing the Nugents to 
the Johnsons, and worrying about 
whether everyone would get along. They 
needn't ha%e. Different as they are, the 
two families discovered they had a 
bond : they are all devoted parents. 

The Nugents were, naturally, some- 
what nervous themselves about meeting 
the President and the First Lady. Presi- 
dent Johnson once said that one of the 
greatest burdens of his job is that 
"everybody is nervous the {continued) 



ISoon make th 
peachiest ice cream 

when ^ordeti!) 
you're a [jfjl i j i /f 

lady with Sp^^P 

an Easle. sZy^.,.* 

1 cups mashed (4 large) fresh 
peaches, sweetened lo iasle 

1 '/a cups (15-oz. can) Eagle Brand 
Sweetened Condensed Milk 
% cup waler 

2 cups (1 pint) heavy cream, chilled 
In large-sized bowL combine mashed 
peaches and Eagle Brand Sweeiened 
Condensed Milk {it's a special blend ot 
whole milk and sugar) and waler. Re- 
frigerate. Whip cream to a soft foam. 
Fold in peach mixture. Pour into 9x5x3- 
inch pan: corer pan. Freeze mixture tm- 
til firm 1 inch in from pan edges, about 
6 hours. Turn into chilled large-sized 
bowl: break into pieces and whip tmtil 
fluffy, but not melted. Return to pan. 
Freeze mixture until firm. You've just 
made 2 quarts of the peachiest. smooth- 
est ice cream because you used Eagle 
Brand Sweetened Condensed Milk. 

SNACK SUGGESTION: spread nutrir 
tious Eagle Brand on bread. Kids lovs it. 


Tho Borden Co. 
ept. LH86,P.O. Box451 
Jersey City. N.J. 07303 

hease send me ?. copy of 
pMagic Recipes" with doz- 
jf desserts I can easily 


Summer Beauty Hints 

Afrs. .1/. Reynolds 
Beauty Skin Care 

Th ere's nothing like summer sunshine for turning a satin- 
smooth skin to prettiest pale gold. Here are some suggestions 
for cherishing the precious softness and youthfulness of your 
summertime complexion. 


Smooth your skin to new radiance and beauty by anointing 
your face and neck every day with a tropical moist oil. It takes 
only a few moments to apply this remarkable beauty fluid, yet 
it will protect the skin against climatic extremes and wrinkle- 
dryness, promote a petal-soft and dewy surface texture. Used 
as an ideal powder-base, oil of Olay also insures that make-up 
gains a matt perfection and loveliness that will last all through 
the day. 


Always remove make-up by first cleansing away eye and lip 
colors, so that they don't get smeared over the rest of the face. 
Moisten a cotton pad with lemon Jelvyn cleansing milk and 
carefully wipe ofiF eye and lip cosmetics, using a fresh piece of 
cotton with every stroke. Now spread the beauty milk over the 
face and neck, allowing a few seconds for it thoroughly to 
cleanse the skin. Remove with light, sweeping strokes of a tis- 
sue. Now smooth on a beautifying application of moist oil of 
Olay to give your complexion its final touch of youthful beauty. 


To give your complexion a delightful dewy bloom, try this 
simple beauty procedure. Dampen a cloth in lemon Jelvyn 
freshener and press it over your face, molding it to your fea- 
tures. Relax for a few minutes while the lemon tones and 
clears the skin. Now, to hold the clear, cool loveliness apparent 
on your skin, smooth on your oil of Olay and use it always 
beneath your make-up to protect against wrinkle-dryness and 
to give the skin a day-long dewy look. 


A supple, velvety complexion is the natural reward of a 
cream-and-massage routine. Cherish your skin each night with 
the rich unguents of a vitalizing night creanl* using the pads of 
your fingers to massage the croam from brow to hairline, from 
chin to cheeks, and coaxing the moi.slurizing oils into tiny dry 
lines. Neck, throat and shoulders will also rapidly respond to 
the soft touch of Olay vitalizing night cream and take on an 
exquisite softness and beauty. 


LUCI JOHNSON continued 

first time they talk to the President. I'd 
be nervous, too, if it wasn't me." 

At her first White House dinner, Mrs. 
Nugent sat at the President's right, and 
the two families dined beneath the glit- 
tering Waterford crystal chandelier. 
They chatted easily about their children, 
and the President later said he found 
Tillie Nugent charming. The Xugents 
live in an unpretentious bungalow with 
simulated brick siding and metal awn- 
ings in Waukegan. [See also: Pat 
Nugent's Parents Tell: How To Be 
A White House In-law, page 110.| It 
has been their home since they were 
married 25 years ago. They were not in 
the least upset about their son's quick 
romance and engagement; after all, 
Jerry Nugent met and married Tillie 
Jocius within two months. 

The President was deeply moved 

The President asked Mrs. Nugent 
about her eldest son, Gerard Jr., who is a 
Marine. Mrs. Nugent said that Gerard 
had requested duty in Vietnam, and in 
his last letter had said that he would 
not be able to tell her for some time 
what he was doing; consequently, she 
did not know where he was. 

Vietnam and its inexorable toll of 
lives weighs on the President more 
heavily than any other problem. He 
slipped away immediately after dinner, 
telephoned Gen. Wallace Greene, com- 
mandant of the Marine Corps, and asked 
the general to locate young Nugent. 
Greene called back within a half hour. 
Nugent, he reported, was a platoon 
leader taking part at that moment in 
Operation Double Eagle, one of the larg- 
est assaults on the Viet Cong since the 
Vietnamese struggle began. At that 
point, Nugent's platoon had lost 11 men 
and killed 191 Communist Viet Cong. 

The President felt Mrs. Nugent would 
rather know about her son than be kept 
in the dark, even though his mission was 
a dangerous one. As he told her, Mr. 
Nugent quietly slipped his handkerchief 
to her. She dabbed at her eyes, but did 
not cry. "What will be, will be," she 
said. "The Lord will take care of him. I 
am proud I could raise a son like Jerry." 

President Johnson was deeply moved. 
Then, as if to break the somber mood, 
Mrs. Nugent added spiritedly: "Mr. 
President, I want you to know that I 
like Senator Dirksen." The senator from 
Illinois had, the week before, delivered a 
speech praising the President's policies 
in Vietnam and denouncing those who 
want to pull out. 

The President was pleased — even 
though he suddenly realized that Luci 
was about to marry him into a family of 
Republicans ! 

The biggest immediate problem Pat 
Nugent foresees is making certain that 
Luci finishes her education. "It may be 
difficult if we have children," he said. 

Luci squirmed under her blanket and 
sat up straighter. She insists that she 
wants to finish her college education, but 
has no objection to dropping studies 
while her children are young, and re- 
suming them later: "I feel a woman's 
place is to be a cultural barrel for her 
chiUiren, and an education will help me 
bring them to a fuller life. It will help 
me to lead a fuller life, too I'd be a fool 
if I didn't realize there might come a day 
in our lives when there would be a big 
tU'paration between uh if he hud un edu- 
cation and I didn't ... I wouldn't want 
t hat to happen." 

Both parents have strongly encw 
aged Luci to finish school. "She has 
considerable capacity for growth, a 
an originality and ability to express h 
self, " Mrs. Johnson points out. 

Whether or not a baby interferes wi 
school, Luci is looking forward to nM 
erhood; she has even picked out 
name for her first child— Kimberly. It 
so emphatically her favorite name, a 
couldn't even wait for a baby to best 
it on— she has already given it to one 
Him's puppies. It won't create eonl 
sion, though; the puppies, under preae 
plans, will be left behind at the Wh 
House when Luci marries, for the N 
gents' first home will undoubtedly bt 
small apartment. Besides, the Preside 
has already protested that he would m 
the puppies too much. 

As for other problems, Pat Nuge 
doesn't believe that they will find it d 
ficult to adjust to married life, becau 
he says, "No matter what we do 
gether, we draw pleasure from each oi 
er's company. For instance, two wee 
ago I wanted to go out and practice r 
golf swing. I tried to get Luci interest 
in the game, because I thought here ' 
something we could do together. I 
didn't want to learn — yet she went alo 
anj'way, just so that we could be 
gether, and she sat and watched." 

"You know, Pat and I spend half ( 
time together just stud>-ing here in t 
room; it's not very exciting," Luci sa 
"But, to me, it makes all the ditferei 
in the world just to have him here in t 
room with me." 

"I agree," said Nugent, reaching fo: 
plateful of chocolate turtles. 

Pat gets a reprimand 

"What was that?" piped up Lu 
folding her arms across her chest a 
fastening her bright blue eyes on t 
turtle making its way toward Pa 
mouth. Nugent had earlier rejected t 
offer of a turtle from Luci, on behalf o 
reducing diet that Luci is trying to € 
courage. (He has gained about 10 poun 
in the past few months, while Luci h 
lost 20 pounds in order to be able to g 
into a size-T wedding dress. ) 

"Darling," Pat murmured guiltt 
and hastily popped the offending tur, 
into his mouth. 

"What we want, ideally, is to bala 
each other," he continued. 

Already they've made some minor i 
justments to adapt themselves to ea 
other. Nugent, for instance, is alwa 
punctual for appointments; Luci w 
seldom on time for anything before th 
started dating. Now she tries to be rea 
on time. "He counterbalances me," s 
says, smiling. 

Another contrast involved Lu( 
intense concern about grooming a 
neatness (she often spends 45 m 
utes in front of the mirror, trying to g 
her hairdo just right). Pat is sometin 
careless about being tidy. He told n 
"I threw a cigarette on the ground om 
andshe fussed at me about it. 'Our beau 
fication program!' she said. I've tri 
not to do it since," he says. 

Pat also feels that Luci is more gre 
ious: "She is more outspoken than 1 1 
in public or with people we don't kni 
well." IvUci quickly rose to his defen 
"Pat just likes to get to know anot^ 
person before he lets them know hir 

Both de<lare that they've had a U 
minor disagnH-menls mostly over thin 
like whether Pat should eat anoth 
piece of chocolate. But Luci said: "W«' 
never had an out-and-out argument th 


h '(i overnight. He's never left until 
V. . (■ settled it." 

.me of their arguments have been 
ipted by tensions created by com- 
p ated wedding plans, which sometimes 
h pens to young engaged couples. Pat 
iivinced that's mostly due to his 
A isdom in leaving the preparations 
a i|i to Mrs. Johnson and Luei. 

redding preparations are difficult 
e u^h for any bride, but they presented 
H 'inumental headache for Luci. Proto- 
;' termined at least half the guest 
I Then Luci was loudly criticized for 
cting a French pattern for her wed- 
g china. Ai\d she had a terrible time 
■cting the wedding gown. "I can't 
•igine anything worse than not being 
Dve with your wedding gown -except 
being in love with your husband, of 
rse," she said. Ambitious designers 
nbarded the White House, volunteer- 
their services. (Luci felt she couldn't 
if she were "in love" with a dress 
Ti a sketch; she wanted to be able to 
the flnished dress and try it on before 
iding. I 

)nce, when she tried shopping in 
w York for a dress, she was even 
tied by curious crowds that would 
leave her alone. Some women 
rched right into her dressing room, 
led open the curtain of her booth, and 
red while she was undressing. "It 
n't exactly put me in the temper to 
V anything," Luci sighed. 
Vow, of course, the prenuptial prob- 
18 are all but over, and tlieir real 
)blems about to begin. But Luci's 
nds are convinced the Nugents will 
ve them and be happy. Says one 
lin: "It might be hard for most girls 
move from the White House, where 
rything is done for you, to a situation 
ere you have to run down to the cor- 
grocery store for a quart of milk or a 
en eggs. But not for Luci. She really 

to keep house." 
\nd while it seems clear that Nug^t 
no intention of taking orders from 
wife, he does feel he should help Luci 
und the house when he can. He told 
"I do the chores for my parents 
en I'm home, such as taking out the 
bage and shopping for groceries, so I 

n't see that life will be so different " 

only draws the line at cooking. He 
n't cook, and doesn't want to learn, 
lich doesn't bother Luci; she has 
lown how to cook for years, and has 
ten prepared dinner in the solarium 
herself and Pat. 
But Luci does still bristle whenever 
eir marriage is referred to as a "teen- 
e romance. " That makes her sound 
:e an escapee from the Patty Duke 
wu; she says, "and it's so degrading to 
itrick!" Nugent reached 23 in July, 
d Luci 19. She also argues that her 
Tiite House experiences and a lifetime 
«nt as the daughter of a public figure 
tve matured her at least a year beyond 
!r chronological age. 

A very mature kind of love 

To Luci, too, her relationship with 
rt is a solid and very mature kind of 
ve. It wasn't love at first sight by any 
eaas. When they first met, "I couldn't 
iderstand his Middle Western accent, " 
le says. "I kept sa>ing, 'What did he 
it was just mumbling to me. . . . 
nen the first time Pat went back 

nif after he'd stayed in Washington a 
hile his parentx couldn't understand 
im. He'd acquired a Texas accent. " 

Beth Jenkins had brought Pat and 
iree other Marquette University friends 

with her to a surprise party for Luci last 
June. Neither Luci nor Pat was particu- 
larly smitten. 

"It wasn't until her baptism that we 
felt a strong rapport," Pat says. Luci 
was baptized into the Catholic Church 
in July, 1965, and her conversion was 
greeted with a storm of controversy. 
"She had just come into the church and 
here she was being criticized— it drew us 
together," Nugent says softly. 

Luci interjected: "It was my own per- 
sonal conversion, and I couldn't under- 
stand why there was all that criticism. 
Pat had come here from Wisconsin just 
to be at the service, but he said, 'Honey, 
I can't leave you like this; nobody else is 
here with you, and I'm going to stay 
here.'" (Mrs. Johnson and Lynda were 
both on trips out of the city and the 
President was preoccupied with afTairs 
of state. ) 

"Where will you get a Job?" 

"I said, '^'ou're crazy where are you 
going to get a job?' He said, 'I'll find 
one; I can't leave, it isn't right.' So I 
kinda thought, 'Well, that's mighty 
sweet of him, but he'll feel differently 
when he can't find a job or a place to 
live.' " 

Nugent quickly found both a job and 
a place to live. "And we have never 
really been separated since," Luci ob- 
servi-s. "In times of trouble, either you've 
got rapport or not. I can't imagine many 
people doing what F'at did. From that 
moment it grew, and grew rapidly. .\nd 
I hope it never stops growing." 

She sighed, and snuggled closer down 
under the blanket. "The circumstances 
under which I meet anybody are diffi- 
cult at first. V{>u either make it or you 

"From the beginning, it made no dif- 
ference to me who she was," Pat said. 
"You look at the individual, not their 

Luci beamed at this, and blew Nugent 
a kiss. He blew two back across the 

"Pat is enough of a man to try to care 
about somebody from the beginning, 
and he has enough character to be con- 
cerned about me as an individual," Luci 
contributed. "He has a great ability to 
absorb; he's learned a great art, that of 
listening. Listening is a problem I have, 
you know. You don't learn much by 
talking. But Pat, he can put his ques- 
tions into words easily. He's an extremely 
curious individual. He'll ask a question 
about something, and, two or three 
weeks later, you realize he's using this 
piece of information he picked up. That's 
one reason why I want to stay in school. 
Pat gets that ball and keeps running, 
and nothing stops him. I've been run- 
ning with the ball for a long time, 
but I've got to keep going to stay up 
with him." 

Suddenly Luci sprang out of her 
curled-up pose and out of her serious 
mood— she wanted to show off their 
home mo\-ies. Pat, it developed, has 
turned into quite a camera buff lately. 
He expertly set up the projector, turned 
out the lights, and pulled down a small 
screen hidden in a wall across the room. 
A rapid succession of color pictures 
flashed on the screen. Nearly all were of 
Luci— holding out her hand to display 
the engagement ring, playing with the 
puppies, chatting animatedly with a 
young couple, smiling perkily in a rasp- 
berry sweater. Nugent also appeared in 
a few of the shots. Once he halted the 
projector to take a long'look at a partic- 

ularly good close-up of Luci holding 
kimberly, the beagle. 

"There's my honey," he said proudly. 

"The dog or me?" piped up Luci, her 
grin visible in the darkened room. 

Nugent retorted, "Guess!" and started 
up the projector again. 

After the movies, Pat had to go back 
to work. He kissed Luci, murmuring "I 
love you" in her ear, and left. 

One of the reasons Luci says she fell in 
love with Nugent is his complete lack of 
self-consciousness in her presence. She 
says he is nefither too effusive nor too 
critical of her. 

There's no doubt that Luci has grown 
up a great deal over the past year, but 
she is still a quixotic blend of the young 
colt, frisky and friendly, and the adult 
Thoroughbred, well-paced and broken 
to bridle. She is, to use a word made 
famous by Mrs. Johnson, a "doer" — she 
cannot bear to be idle for a moment. 
This often leads her to attempt to do 
two things at once— when she sets her 
hair, she watches TV as she sticks in the 
bobby pins; when she is under the dryer, 
she calls up friends and shouts to be 
heard over the blower. 

Luci sends out for a hamburger 

What's more, she hasn't outgrown her 
irrepressible sense of fun or of showman- 
ship. Luci is, by nature, a bit of a ham. 
Beth Jenkins says, "Luci has a touch of 
drama in her- it will be there in or out 
of the White House. It's just part of 
her." When her hamsters had babies, 
she presented her father's visitors with 
candy cigars. Her first week in the White 
House, she sent out to a local hamburger 
place for a late-night snack, and the de- 
livery boy created quite a stir when he 
arrived at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue 
and tried to get past the gate to deliver 
the hamburger. When a White House 
waiter bumped her and rudely neglected 
to apologize, she stuck out her tongue at 
his retreating back. One day she dressed 
up in a short skirt, plaited her hair into 
pigtails, and blackened a front tooth; 
then she called her mother, on the pre- 
text of asking homework advice (Mother 
thought it was very funny— when she 
got over the shock). And she sent Pat a 
singing telegram for his birthday. 

And Luci is still outgoing almost to a 
fault; her friends wish she would be more 
reticent with strangers, until she gets to 
know them. She takes pleasure in ex- 
pressing herself well. A particularly ap- 
propriate phrase, she says, makes her 
"tingle inside." Mrs. Johnson describes 
Luci as "a warm, loving little person." 

Luci has admittedly fought to keep 
her own identity in a family of strong 
personalities in which she is the junior 
member. Perhaps that may be one rea- 
son why she already knows how to be a 
warm, gracious hostess, and how to 
reach out to people of all walks of life. 
"There's a quality in Luci that loves to 
be needed; she loves to take care of peo- 
ple," Mrs. Johnson explains. (The list of 
surprise birthday parties and thoughtful 
gifts given by Luci to please her friends 
is endless. ) 

Luci may not be quite as practical and 
conscientious as her sister Lynda, but 
she is quite capable of serious thought. 
The First Lady, for example, would 
have liked to have given her a debut. 
But Luci dismissed the idea: "I've been 
making one big debut since I came to the 
White House — there's no need to intro- 
duce me to society; society's already 
heard more than it wants to about me. 
Besides," she added, (continued) 

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LUCI JOHNSON continued 

"I'd rather have you save the money for 
the wedding." 

Luci also possesses a quality that could 
be variously described as determination, 
independence, or as plain stubbornness. 
She likes to do things for herself —a trait 
that has led her to reject her father's offer 
of help in writing her speeches; to sew 
up her own ripped clothes even though 
the White House has many capable 

The President and Mrs. Johnson are 
aware how much they ^ili miss Luci's 
presence when she moves away to set up 
housekeeping as Mrs. Nugent. Both 
girls are very close to their parents. Liv- 
ing in the White House is something like 
living over the store, and the girls have 
shared experiences and emotions with 
their parents in an intimate way that 
was not possible when Lyndon Johnson 
walked out of the front door each morn- 
ing to a Senate office miles away from 
home. Both girls have never hesitated to 
embrace and kiss their parents in front 
of strangers. Once Luci tried to slip out 
of a gathering in the White House unno- 
ticed; the President called out in a woe- 
begone voice, "Don't you kiss your tired 
old Daddy good-bye anymore?" 

Mrs. Johnson is her daughter's closest 
confidante; Luci told her about Pat's 
proposal some time before she broached 
the subject to the President. 

"I surely will miss her" 

No question about it: the old mansion 
itself will lose some of its vibrancy when 
Luci leaves. "She brings a gay and bub- 
bling quality to this house," declares 
Mrs. Johnson. "Laughter rings through 
these rooms because she is here. She is a 
lark, a sprite; joy flows through her like 
a stream. She's on good terms with life." 

Moreover, Luci's buoyant spirits are 
infectious. Last winter, as the city lay 
buried beneath giant 16-inch snowdrifts. 
President and Mrs. Johnson were enter- 
taining eight close friends at dinner. 
Only two hours before the group sat 
down at the table, U.S. jets had left their 
carriers to resume the bombing of North 
Vietnam after a Christmas-holiday pause. 
The President was preoccupied, and the 
atmosphere in the room was hushed. 

Suddenly, Luci burst into the dining 
room, breathless and smiling, in a black- 
and-white checkered snow hood and 
jacket purchased by her father on a trip 
to Scandinavia four years ago. With 
quick apologies and greetings around the 
table, Luci gave both father and mother 
a peek on the cheek and announced: 
"I'm going to put on three pairs of pants 
and look fat, and Paddy and I are going 
to play in the snow — it'll be such fun!" 
The President smiled, and Mrs. Johnson 
slipped her arm around Luci's waist for 
a quick s^jueeze. She was gone, with a 
quick wave, as abruptly as .she had come; 
but the President's gloom had lightened, 
and the mood around the table was 
somehow more cheerful. 

Mrs. John.son gets a lump in her throat 
when she thinku of the White House 
without Luci. "The lonewjmeHt place in 
the world is the room where a child has 
been," she says. "Now I ^it at my desk, 
and down the hall floats a tune on the 
piano Luci plays by ear, juHt for plea- 
sure, like one roi-m walking in a field of 
f!<jwent. Or she come* to you, luitKing a 
basketful of puppiiK, and Hpills i hr-m out 
on the floor, wjuealing and wiggling 
LuH adoring every minut*. I surely will 
miss her." END 

Pat Nugenfs 
Parents Tell: 

How to be 
a White House 

By Flora Rheta Schreiber 

Gerard- Nugent was working at his 
desk on the sun porch of the yellow house 
on Prescott Street in Waukegan, 111. His 
wife, Tillie, was beginning her week's 
ironing. When the phone rang, Mrs. 
Nugent switched off the iron and went 
to answer it. 

"Mom, it's Paddy." It was Patrick, 
her younger son. "I'm on my way to the 
senior prom, but I'm stopping by the 
house to pick up the car." 

"Sure, come ahead," said Mrs. 

"But Mom, I've got some friends with 
me," her son said excitedly. "One of 
them is Luci Johnson." 

"What!" Mrs. Nugent exclaimed. 

"Say, I have to go now. We'll be there 
in about an hour." 

Mrs. Nugent called to her husband. 
"Paddy is bringing Luci Johnson here." 

"You mean that call last week wasn't 
a joke?" 

"I guess not," Mrs. Nugent replied. 
"He said he was calling from the White 
House, and it must have been true, after 

She gave her husband his lunch, and 
he went off to see a client. Describing his 
own reaction later, Mr. Nugent, who is a 
zone manager of Diversified Services, 
Inc., an investment management com- 
pany, says he was sorry he could not stay 
and meet the President's daughter. "I 
keep my appointments," he says. "It 
never occurred to me to stay home." 

Mrs. Nugent thought it was exciting 
for her handsome son to have a date with 
the President's daughter and to bring 
the celebrated Miss Johnson to their 
house. "But I didn't think of it as any- 
thing affecting me," she recollects. 

She was still ironing when her son, 
Luci, and two other young couples ar- 
rived, along with two Secret Service men. 

"Let me get you some lunch," said the 
always hospitable Mrs. Nugent. The 
young people said they weren't hungry. 
Driving from Chicago, they'd had a flat 
tire, and, while waiting for it to be re- 
paired, they had filled up on ice cream 

While the three couples chatted away, 
Mrs. Nugent found herself quietly study- 
ing her son's date. Something was differ- 
ent from the countless pholograi>hH of 
Luci that she had seen. Suddenly she 
knew what it was. "What's ha|)pened to 
your beautiful black hair?" she asked. 

"I'm wearing a wig," Luci explained. 
And so she was, a transforming blond 
wig that sf'rved remarkably well as a 

Tillie Nugent, a slight, woman with 
sandy blond hair, has never owm-d a wig 
and never needed protection from 

celebrity-hungry crowds. "We lead a 
very simple life," her husband says. "Al- 
ways have. Always will." 

There can be no doubt that the ro- 
mance of Luci Johnson and Pat Nugent 
began as casually and spontaneously as 
any modern courtship, and took its 
course with an equally typical absence of 
interference from either set of parents. 
Yet, even if the Johnsons had hand- 
picked their daughtei^- in-law|, they 
could hardly have selected a more per- 
fect couple. 

For one thing, the Nugents intend to 
follow a live-and-let-live policy with the 
Johnsons. "We don't expect to be drawn 
into the Johnsons' kind of life," says 
Mrs. Nugent. "We aren't going down to 
the ranch for weekends or anything like 
that. We're realists." 

"I care more about being myself," 
says Jerry Nugent. "I'm not in their 
league, and I'm not ambitious to be." 

Like any parents, they feel pride and 
joy that their child is grown and taking 
on adult responsibilities. But they also 
feel a twinge of anxiety. "A mother loses 
her sons when they marry," Mrs. 
Nugent says. Nor could she help won- 
dering whether, in this very public mar- 
riage, the loss might not be greater than 

"Pat and I come from different 
worlds," Luci Johnson once said as she 
sat on the steps of his fraternity house, 
Kappa Alpha Psi, at Marquette Univer- 
sity. "I don't like being a celebrity. I like 
his world." 

And, fortunately, "his world" likes 
Luci. Jerry and Tillie Nugent couldn't 
be less awed by her. They speak of her 
quite parentally: "She's making good 
grades. She's very mature for her age, a 
very practical person." .^nd they like her 
in spite of her being the President's 
daughter, not because of it. 

-•Vgain, one can't help but think that 
the Johnsons have cause to be delighted, 
foi the central truth about the Nugents 
is their no-nonsense ways, and how they 
acquired them. 

The Nugents' world is centered in 
their home. They moved into the first 
floor of the comfortable, unpretentious 
house on the unfashionable south side of 
town when they were married 2.T years 
ago. And it isn't exactly their; it 
belongs to Tillie Nugent's older sister, 
Veronica Landers, who lives on the sec- 
ond floor. The furniture, as an old friend 
affectionately describes it, is "<'arly 
mixed." Mrs. Pius llayimas, Mrs. Nu- 
gent's cousin, says, "Jr-rry could build 
Tillie a beautiful hom<' now. 'I'hey're 
c()rnfortably fixed. Hut llicy don't go in 
for classy stuff." 

"I'm satisfied with what I have," 
Mrs. Nugent, who does all her own he 
work and also helps her husband • 
bookkeeping and secretarial chores. ' 
put our money into good education: 
our sons. That seemed more impor 
than material things." Both Pat an( 
older brother, Jerry Jr., went to C 
pion, a stiff Jesuit secondary school, 
then to Marquette. 

Jerry Sr. and Tillie Nugent are 1 
school graduates. He went to Co 
University for one semester and she 
accepted at Northwestern, but neith 
them could afford college. Their par 
were immigrants— his from Ireland 
hers from Lithuania. But, like o 
American parents, Jerry and Tillie 
gent wanted their sons to have "the 
vantages" that they themselves ha 
had. "Few people start at the top," I 
Nugent says, "and we were not an 
those few." 

Tillie Nugent likes to knit and w: 
television. Her sister, Josephine, 
scribes her as "a home girl who dot 
gallivant." She always wanted the I 
to send home their laundry from sc 
for her to do. She and her husband 
to play poker, pinochle, Scrabbk 
euchre on a quiet Saturday night ' 
close friends. She plays just to play, 
he plays to win. Sometimes thej) 
fishing. Occasionally they take a tri 
Chicago to see a musical. 

Dad, as Mrs. Nugent often calls 
husband, is a tall, sedate man, politic 
conservative (he's a registered Re) 
lican), and he usually puts in a 14-i 
day. He likes to wear brown suits, dr 1 
a beer every now and then, and sm I 
cigars. His reading is confined to bus! I 
magazines, and Mrs. Nugent say l 
isn't very good at fixing broken hi ( 
hold gadgets. 

Having a son who is engaged to ; i 
lebrity has disrupted the Nugents' i 
very little. Of course, they are startli 
pick up the newspaper and see his pic 
jump out at them. And they have ha 
adjust to Luci's inevitable escorl 
Secret Service men. Most annojl 
their phone rings too much calls! 
well-wishers, ill-wishers, and from 

"It's a little hard to get used to, 
cause to me he's still Paddy," Mrs. 
gent says. She remembers Paddy » 
lively, golden-haired little boy who ' 
climbing up on garage roofs and ii 
the lops of trees. Hi- had a certain ii 
bcr of accid»'nts "I was always ciil 
the emergency ward of the hospi' 
she says. 

faddy was known as a lease ;i 
he could talk, lie was a fair ki 


iiiol, and a good athlete. "Both Pat 
liis brother, Jerry, are good mixers," 
- the Rev. John Kuzinskas, the fam- 
friend who will perform the wedding 
i inony. "But Pat is more of a leader, 
il Jerry is a deeper thinker." 
Hi)th boys had summer jobs all the 
\ through college. Pat headed a con- 
uction gang one summer. He also 
n kt'd as a parking-lot attendant and as 
our guide for a brewery. \l Campion, 
I showed his leadership qualities. He 
is a captain in the R.O.T.C., co-cap- 
n of the baseball team, and a member 
the student council. He was also a 
orts reporter for the school newspaper 
d a member of the dramatics club. 
At Aiarquette, his aptitude tests 
owed tnat his talent was for promotion 
d salesmanship. He was likely to take 
arge of things there, too: In his senior 
ar lie ran the interfraternity prom, and 
ved as pledge master for his fraternity. 
It was sheer daredeviltry that led to 
It's first meeting with Luci. He was 
th a group of Marciuette friends iii- 
uiing Beth Jenkins, an old friend of 
U'i's. Beth mentioned that she had 
rned down an inv itation to Luci's sur- 
ise graduation party at the White 
ouse. Pat and the others reversed her 
cision with a swift "Let's go!" 
Luci and Pat got along well at the 
rty in the .solarium on the third floor 
the White House. M the end of the 
ening, as Beth and her friends were 
aving, Luci said, "I wish I could do 
melhing wild and crazy like you-all." 
"Why not?" asked Beth. "Why don't 
lU come for the Marquette senior 
om?" She turned to Pat. "Vou don't 
ve a date, do you? " Pat answered, 
^lo." .\nd Beth said, "You do now." 
When Pat l)rought Luci to the dance, 
friends didn't recognize her. "I saw 
m with a blond girl, " says Jim Moyni- 
in, a Marquette friend. "Later, when 
bumped into him at the bar alone, I 
ked him who his date was. He brushed 
e off with 'Zelda Glockenspiel.' " 
On Monday, after the prom, Pat put 
ici on a plane for Washington and 
Ued Lady Bird Jtihnson (shown in pho- 
graph opposite with Mr. and Mrs. 
ugent ) to tell her that her daughter was 
the way home. On Tuesday Mrs. 
hnson called Mrs. Nugent to thank her 
r her hospitality to Luci. Then Luci 
)l on the phone to talk to Pat. 

he first date that brought Luci 
iefly to Prescott Street blossomed 
entually into a summer romance. Luci 
ade a speech at the 4-H Club in Mil- 
aukee, and came to visit the Nugents. 
at was a weekend guest at the White 
ouse. Then, instead of coming home 
Jr the summer, he took a job in Wash- 
igton as assistant to the executive di- 
sctor of the District of Columbia's Ad- 
isory Council on Higher Education. 
Father John Kuzinskas was planning 
visit Washington, and Mrs. Nugent 
aid to him, "Do me a favor. Find out 
'hat's happening." 
"I had a little time alone with Pat," 
ather John says. "I told him I'd like to 
now what was going on. Pat replied, 
jUci says the same thing — that our 
lends are asking her.' W' hen I talked to 
>uci, she told me, 'Let's say that we're 
erious about one another, that we love 
ne another.' 

Then I asked Pat," Father John con- 
inues. "'Are you sure about this? You 
laven't known each other long enough 
become serious. Luci still has to finish 
;e. You have to go into the ser\ ice. 

If your cat did her own shopping, 

she'd stock her cupboard^ 
like this. 


And no wonder. All the variety she wants. All the flavor she 
craves. All the vitamins, minerals and protein she's known to 
need. What more could any cat ask? Except a ball of yarn, maybe. 
Get her Friskies...from a world leader in nutrition -Carnation. 

Y'ou shouldn't plunge headlong. This is a 
lifetime pact. Both of you have the best 
examples in your own parents. All four 
of them have worked hard, Pat. If there 
is \o\e, it is all right.' Pat's reply was, 
'W^e'll see about this." " 

Meanwhile, Luci became a familiar 
figure on Prescott Street, and spent sev- 
eral weekends there. She was quickly 
made to feel at home. Adele Matulenas, 
a close friend of the Nugents, recalls, 
"W^hen Tillie presented Luci to me, she 
remarked, 'If you and Paddy come down 

and I'm not here, go to the Matulenases. 
They'll treat you the way I do.' " 

Pat's Aunt Josephine remembers that 
when the young couple visited Mrs. Nu- 
gent when she was in the hospital, "Luci 
walked in and kissed Tillie on the cheek, 
asked her how she felt. Once they knew 
Tillie was feeling pretty well, they both 
started to giggle. They explained that 
they had stopped on the way at a place 
where there was a swimming pool. Luci 
tripped and fell in. Maybe Pat pushed 
her. They talked so fast it was hard to 

understand. Anyway, her clothes were 
all wet, and they both kept laughing 
about it." 

But Pat can also be quite gallant 
about his Luci. Someone asked him if he 
had danced with Princess Margaret at 
the W^hite House state dinner honoring 
her. Pat replied, "I danced with my own 
Princess." He also has a way of saying to 
Luci, "What next, Princess?" 

The Nugents knew that an engage- 
ment announcement was in the offing, 
but when it came from (continued) 



continued from page 6\ 



the L.B.J. Ranch on Christmas Eve, it 
was sooner than they had expected it. 
Mr. Nugent kept thinking of the time he 
had tried to persuade Pat to go not to 
Marquette but to a smaller college. "If 
he had listened to me, he never would 
have met Luci," he points out. It was 
more than a passing reflection about the 
role chance plays in human events. It 
seemed to be a father's way of saj-ing 
that he was pleased at the unexpected 
turn in his son's life. 

In January, Luci arrived for her first 
weekend with the Nugents after the en- 
gagement announcement. She brought 
with her a complete place setting of her 
new gold-bordered white Limoges china 
and her Old Maryland engraved silver. 
An.xious to help make her future in-laws' 
25th wedding anniversary more mem- 
orable, Luci talked with Father John 
about a private Mass where the Nugents 
could renew their marriage vows. To 
make the occasion more "sentimental," 
Luci wanted the Mass to be said not on 
the Sunday before but on the anniver- 
sary day itself. 

The worlds of Pat and Luci finally met 
in earnest on Lincoln's Birthday this 
year when the parents of the groom met 
the parents of the bride at the White 
House. The Nugents almost didn't make 
the trip. 

Mrs. Nugent had been in the hospital, 
and they couldn't decide whether the 
trip was worth the risk to her health. 
In the long run, however, they just 
couldn't resist. 

Mrs. Nugent went with Adele Matu- 
lenas to buy a dress for the first of the 
prenuptial parties. The dress she chose 
was turquoise-blue with a satin skirt, a 
ribbon-lace top and sequins. Mrs. Nu- 
gent felt terribly dressed up in this outfit 
after the tailored suits and flat-heeled 
shoes she usually wears. 

Paddy Nugent's mother admits she 
wasn't altogether calm at the prospect 
of meeting the Johnsons. "I suggested 
that she ought to get some tranquilizers 
from her doctor," says Mrs. Rayunas, 
"but she wouldn't hear of it." Since Mrs. 
Nugent doesn't fly, they made the 15- 
hour trip from Waukegan to Washington 
in their car. It was their first visit to the 

capital. "In the car," Mrs. Nugent says, 
"Jerry and I avoided all topics ofconver- 
sation except the beauty of the late-win- 
ter countryside. We always do that when 
we drive. We hate to miss the world as it 
goes by." 

When the Nugents reached suburban 
Chevy Chase, they telephoned Pat and 
Luci at the White House. The young 
people drove to Chevy Chase to meet 
them. It was raining. The Johnsons had 
waited for the Nugents as long as they 
could, but they had to be at a ceremony 
at the Lincoln Memorial. So Luci took 
her future in-laws to a green bedroom on 
the third floor, where a maid helped 
them unpack. Then all the Nugents and 
Luci waited in the solarium. "We hadn't 
been there five minutes," Mrs. Nugent 
relates, "when Mrs. Johnson came in." 
Her cordiality disarmed Pat's parents at 

At lunch in the family dining room, 
the Nugents met the President and the 
only other guest, Luci's friend. Sue Ann 
Ray. (See also Luci Johnson and Fat 
Nugent Talk About Life Without 
F.ATHER, on page 73. ) The Nugents told 
of their trip from Waukegan, urged on 
by questions from the Johnsons. Later 
the Nugents and the Johnsons spent 
some time together alone. 

"We talked about the same things 
that we talked about with our other 
son's in-laws, the Carrs: about the chil- 
dren's future. Any nervousness we might 
have felt was already over," Mrs. Nu- 
gent says. "I felt at home because the 
Johnsons were affectionate with each 
other. They'd hold hands and kiss each 
other — just like Jerry and me." 

As the Nugents were leaving the 
White House the following Monday 
morning, Lyndon Johnson said to Tillie 
Nugent, "I like that suit you're wearing. 
I like the colors." It was black and gold. 

In St. Petersburg, Fla., where the Nu- 
gents headed from the White House, 
Mrs. Nugent told Mrs. Rayunas, "I 
could kick myself for being nervous 
about meeting the Johnsons. They were 
so wonderful to us." 

Now, as Luci's and Paddy's August 
wedding approaches, Jerry and Tillie 
Nugent find they aren't worrying much 
about anything except, perhaps, as they 
put it, the practical problems of "getting 
a son married out of town." END 

sense of style ("I didn't sulk because I 
wasn't gorgeous," said Barbra, "I 
dressed wild to show I didn't care" ), and, 
two years later, after graduating from 
high school, she left Brooklyn and any 
desire to be "ordinary, pretty like Shirley 
Temple," behind forever. 

Still, even by Manhattan standards, 
she was a secret and very special girl. 
A member of an acting class that she 
attended briefly (between unsuccessful 
rounds of producers' offices and such 
part-time jobs as sweeping up at an ofT- 
Broadway theater) has a vivid picture 
of her as "always late, very intense, 
wearing a coat of some immense plaid, 
and eating yogurt." Even her few close 
friends had no idea that she could sing 
until she got her now-famous $50-a-week 
job at a Village nightclub. Singing had 
been another part of her differentness, 
her private world, something she did 
alone on the roof of her Brooklyn apart- 
ment house, or sitting on the front steps 
on summer evenings. In fact, even the 
singing job seemed a compromise. She 
wanted to be an actress. "I knew I was 
good," she said stubbornly, "but no one 
would let me read till I had experience, 
so how could I get experience? Besides, 
I wasn't the ingenue type those casting 
creeps were looking for. I could have 
changed the way I looked, had my nose 
fixed or something, but I just wouldn't. 
That wouldn't have been honest, right?" 

Finally, singing in a nightclub, her 
unique looks and style and talent began 
to pay off. In a middy blouse, shoes with 
enormous buckles, and neo-Cleopatra 
eye makeup, she sang such ofT-beat songs 
as Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf and 
Happy Days Are Here Again — hardly 
the "No Business Like Show Business" 
medley of most young singers. Without 
a lesson to her name, she surprised every- 
one with her instinctive musicianship, a 
sense of gesture enhanced by attenuated, 
elegant hands, a gift for making any 
song into a three-act play, and a voice 
that was reminiscent of many great 
singers (Judy Garland, Lena Horne, 
Morgana King) while remaining special, 
and imitative of none. "I couldn't really 
have imitated anybody," explained 
Barbra, "because I hadn't really heard 
anybody. I'd never been to a nightclub 
until I worked in one." 

The awkwardness, the price of being 
different didn't really stop there, but— 
as she went from the Village club to the 
Blue Angel, and from there to a show- 
stopping song in the Broadway musical 
/ Can Get It for You Wholesale— she was 
compared to Nefertiti as often as "an 
amiable anteater" and to Cleopatra in- 
stead of a ferret. Slowly, she was break- 
ing the cheerleader prototype of beauty 
and originating her own. By the time 
she had made several best-selling rec- 
ords, appeared on national television 
shows, and burst on New York as the 
star of Funny Girl, fashion magazines 
were announcing her as "the girl of the 
'Sixties ... a unique beauty ... a super- 
star." All her outre habits of dress and 
makeup were enshrined as chic, and 
columnists wrote tributes to her "slen- 
der arabesque of neck" as well as to her 

Dillerent. Different as a star. Dif- 
fcrt-nl when she was finding her way. 
Dilferc-nt as a girl, raisiMl in an Orthodox 
Jewish home. The latter she remembers 
as uti archaic pla<-e with little to do with 
the real world. ("We couldn't cross our 

fingers, and we weren't allowed to say 
'Christmas.' So as soon as the rabbi 
went out of the room, I would close my 
eyes, cross my fingers, and say 'Christ- 
mas, Christmas, Christmas' as much as 
I could.") But she does intend to teach 
her child about God. "I believe in God. 
The Orthodox training is outdated, but 
I think it's an unfair burden to teach a 
kid nothing; to say, 'I don't know, de- 
cide for yourself.' Science isn't every- 
thing. No one is ever going to come up 
with a scientific reason for dying. Or- 
ganized religion is something I couldn't 
subscribe to, but it's important that we 
have a sense of God, a sense of mystery." 

But the childhood sense of doom was 
with her then. ("I still thought I had 
some mysterious disease, and only two 


By Lillian Rudolph 

"As free as a bird . . . 
He has the whole sky." 
. . . And haven't I? 

months to live. You really appreciate 
life," she added soberly, "when you 
think you're going to die.") And, some- 
times, it still is. Each time she gets on a 
plane, she envisions what would happen, 
which people would say what if she were 
to die. After taping her last CBS tele- 
vision special, she flew to Paris, thinking 
all the way how sad it would be when 
the TV special was shown and she wasn't 
there. It happens less and less as she is 
more and more secure: the screen isn't 
empty now, and she can see ahead. 

It isn't a question of exchanging a 
career for motherhood. Barbra will go 
on making records, films (the film ver- 
sion of Funny Girl will begin early in 
1967) and television shows. The one 
medium she has ruled out is the stage: 
no more Broadway musicals, or any 
plays unless they are short runs in 
repertory. ("I'd love to play Romeo and 
Juliet, but I don't want to be saying the 
same words every night for years." ) The 
baby will change her life in a deeper, 
more final way, because it is her link 
with humanity, her s>-mbol of belonging 
at last. For a girl who never felt related 
to her own family ("I used to say, 'OK, 
Ma, did you find me on a doorstep or 
what?' "), to her friends or to her neigh- 
borhood ("Brooklyn," she says firmly, 
"was always someplace to get out of"), 
having a baby seems to be the most real 
proof of sameness, of relation to others, 
of continuity, of belonging. 

If her child is a girl, would she like 
her to look the same, to have the painful 
specialness of talent? 

Barbra is silent for a while. "I know 
that my childhood, everything I went 
through, is important to me, to art. It 
doesn't matter how she looks; she will 
be partly Elliott and partly me, but still 
herself. But I don't think I'd like to 
watch her go through exactly the same 
thing; no. Art isn't everything. Love is 
more important." 

But, should her daughter be the exact 
image of Barbra, she would no longer be 
thought homely. Barbra Streisan<l has 
changeil the bland, pug-nosed American 
ideal, probably forever. "She looks just 
like her mother," everyone would say. 
"She's beautiful." END 

How to steal a dog 

easy. Feed him Friskies Mix. And he'll know 
ose dog he really is. Those crunchy, golden 
inks with their savorj- Flavor Crust are some- 
ng a dog can really get his mouth around. Every 
le he crunches a chunk, he feels more loved and 
;ure. He has a sense of well-being after a well- 
inded bowl of Friskies. He should. Carnation 

loads Friskies Mix with protein. Twenty percent 
more protein (for spirit and energ}-) than the 
Minimum Daily Requirement of the National Re- 
search Council. 

Feed a dog Friskies Mix and he's ?/oi<?^dog. We know. 
For years, Carnation has helped steal the hearts 
of more dogs with Friskies Mix than anyone. 

Friskies I 


A balanoedmealfordogs I 

j)vui (Ration 

It's in 
Your Mind 


Q: Will the pleasingly plump female 
come back in style? 

A: A University of Michigan psycholo- 
gist, Dr. Daniel Weintraub, says no. He 
has made a study of Miss America win- 
ners dating back to 1921. 
In that year, the win- 
ner's height was 5 feet 1 
inch and her waistline 
was 25 inches. Last 
year's winner, Deborah 
Bryant, was 5 feet 7 
inches tall and her waist- 
line was 23 inches. 

Dr. Weintraub dis- 
plays a keen scientific 
grasp of statistics, mea- 
surements and the plot- 
ting of curves. And, at 
the end of his report in 
the American Psycholo- 
gist, he predicts, "One 
can look forward to slim- 
mer- waisted and perhaps 
slightly taller Miss 
America winners in the 
years to come." 

Q : Can a teen-ager study 
with the radio blaring? 
A: Bright teen-agers 
study best with the radio 
blaring, reports Dr. John 
Hoffman, a Los Angeles 
educator. He tested 281 
llth-grade pupils, while 
they listened to 85 deci- 
bels of recorded music 
(85 decibels is slightly 
less than the noise of a 
pneumatic drill). The 
high-LQ. students scored 
as well as or better than 
they did when tested in 
a quiet room. 

Dr. Hofifman explains 
that teen-agers like to 
feel the beat of loud mu- 
sic. It puts them in a 
good mood. And, if they 
are bright enough, forc- 
ing themselves to work 
under this form of stress 
increases their concen- 

Unfortunately, aver- 
age students do not con- 
centrate so well under 
noisy conditions, and 
neither do adults. Dr. 
Hoffman himself says, 
"I spent four days giv- 
ing those tests in all 
that noLse It almost 
drove me nuts." 

Q: Doe« worry make hay fever worse? 
A: Many doctors believe it does. Cornell 
University invesligat/jrs have now shown 
that when an allergic person haw an argu- 
ment, Umen a job, gets a draft-board no- 
tice or becomeii badly fatigued, a severe 
attack may follov/. 

There is even a Ci rjditioned-reflex a»- 
')<•' t to hay fever. Son,,- patientH sUrt 
'.ii--/.iuy, when they Mee paper roaet, or 
v. t« u they hear on M,<- rn(i\„ that yenter- 
day'H pollen count wan ui-fh. One man 
get« acute nymftUnDH v ix-nKver he K<nm 
U> mf his favoriU- op< rw, Fii,j 4. One of the 
net* in Frimt I.h a Ido'irning meadow. 

Certain authorities, such as Dr. Mar- 
tin Jacobs of Boston University, say 
that biologic sensitivity alone is not 
enough to produce hay fever. There 
must be a psychological predisposition 
also, in Dr. Jacobs' opinion. His research 
suggests that most hay-fever victims, 
though not all of them, had dominating 
mothers and ineflfectual fathers. 

You cannot overcome your hay fever 
simply by willpower, but perhaps you 
can lessen the toll. Best advice: Do not 

tion comes from Dr. Calvin Shorer at 
Wayne State University. 

Dr. Shorer and his associates sought 
out 138 adults who had been on a psycho- 
therapy-clinic waiting list five years ear- 
lier. Sixty-five percent were found to be 
definitely improved without treatment. 
(By comparison, among a group of pa- 
tients who had received treatment 78 
percent were definitely improved. I 

Persons who improved without treat- 
ment usually were those who had a good 

Every trip's 
a pleasure trip 
when you stop 
at Stuckey's 

Nearly everywhere you travel you find bright and 
friendly Stuckey's at convenient intervals along your 
route. Best-loved roadside refreshment centers in all 
America, say millions of motorists. Fascinating won- 
derlands of exciting candies. Hurry-up snacks, rare 
food treats, gifts. Make it a happy travel habit — relax, 
refresh, refuel at Stuckey's. Nationwide. 

Stuckey's, General Office, Eastman, Georgia 

such an adjustment in their behavior 
and their symptoms may become some 
what worse." 

Q: Are peace marchers way-out people 
A: According to Dr. Jerome Frank, j 
psychiatrist who teaches at Johns Hop 
kins University, most of them are no 
beatniks or leftists. Many are successfu 
professional people or educated house 
wives, who are "indistinguishable fron 
their neighbors" in family and career pat 
terns. They do not be 
lieve that they are "op 
posed" to the Americai 
way of life, but maintaii 
that they are trying t« 
preserve it. 

Some of the peaci 
workers told Dr. Franl 
that at first they fel 
self-conscious about th 
public display, but the; 
soon overcame their shy 
ness. Most report tha 
they became interestei 
through friends, am 
that they have felt a de 
crease in anxiety and ai 
increase in self-respec 
since taking a stand f( 
their beliefs. 

extend yourself too much during the 
hay-fever season, and try to avoid un- 
pleasant jjeojjle, if you can. Above all, 
don't let the local pollen count frighten 
you, like Faiint's meadow. By the time 
the figures are in print the pollen count 
will have changed. Furthermore, the 
pollen station may be .')() miles away. 

Q: Do i)eople recfjver from emotional 
disturbance without getting treatment? 
A: Approximately two thirds of thow? 
who HulfiT frorn diMtrcHMing pHy<'hiatric 
MymptomM do improve; KponlancouHly 
within five yeam. S<.'veral rewarchers 
have noted thlM, and the lati-nl confirma- 

job, were married, and were living with 
their spouses when they first applied for 
help. Among the |)roblems that cleared 
up most readily without helij were social 
isolation, anxiety, and matl-ers of occu- 
pational adjustment, interpers{)nal re- 
lations and sexual adjustment. Depres- 
sion, physical symptoms and insomnia 
also improved without help, but not in 
as many cases. 

Dr. Shorer is not certain that "im- 
jinjvemr-nt wil hout tn-atment" marks a 
cure in the fullest setiH*'. There is evi- 
dence, he says, "that illness remains, 
but they Ir-arn to live with it. The utiim- 
|)roved persons apparently can't make 

Q: Are weekend golfer 
and tennis players jus 
trying to escai)e fror 
taking responsibilit; 
around home? 
A: Your husband' 
weekend sports addio 
tion may make him ea? 
ier to live with on w i 
days. Sports help nai 
men stay on an > 
keel emotionally, : 
the game they seli-' 
significant. Dr. Ro; 
Whitman, a Cinciunai 
psychiatrist, says tha 
women are not so ful 
filled in sports since the 
do not seem to need o 
enjoy the element 
risk and gamble. 

One of the wholesom 
functions of tennis, ac 
cording to Dr. Whii 
man, is that it helps 
man release aggressio 
without suffering guil 
Tennis is violent in som 
ways (the kill shot ) bi. 
genteel in others itli 
spotless white clothing 
And the game's uniqu 
scoring system maki 
wins and losses less al 
solute than in otht 
games. The winner of 
close match may actu 
ally have gained fewe 
points than the losei 
Thus the winner need not feel guiitj 
and the loser need not feel ashamed. Ev 
eryone can return home in a good mood 
Golf offers different advantages, ac 
cording to Dr. Arnold Mandell, a Lo 
Angeles If tennis is like 
duel, golf is more a of man againt* 
him.self. A man's agonies over his gol 
swing, the doctor says, are a symboli 
representation of his search for a \ulii 
way of life. The precise or comijulsiv 
|)erson borrows Hogan's "meliculiuiH 
methods, A more aggressive individuii 
observes the "smash- it" school " 
Palmer. A breezy sort models his 
swing after I/cma. tNi 

liquid disinfectant 


Now. An easier way 
to clean your toilet bowl 
from the makers of 
Lysol Brand Products. 

It's a liquid. Faster than crystals. 
Cleans the bowl, not just the water. 

Just flip the cap and squirt. That's how easy it is to use new Lysol 
Liquid Disinfectant Toilet Bowl Cleaner in the handy squeeze bottle. 
You direct the liquid around the sides of the bowl where you need it 
most. Lysol Bowl Cleaner cleans the bowl, not just the water like 
old fashioned crystals. And you know it kills germs, because it's from 
the Lysol people. It's the fast, easy way to get your bowl spotless . . . 
leave your whole bathroom smelling clean and fresh ! 

Introductory offer 



TO DEALER: L & F Products Corporation will redeem this coupon for 
7# plus 2< handling, provided terms of offer have been followed, in- 
voices proving purchase of sufficient stock to cover coupons presented 
for redemption must be shown on request. Redemption through out- 
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collect for coupons not p'operly redeemed will be reported to Postal 
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for redemption to Lehn & Fink Redemption Center, P.O. Box IE, 
Mt. Vernon, N. Y. 10559. 


r ••ABlM^Tft r - 97 AA'i P&ftK AVrsUE. HPIU YOflK. N.V. 10022 



for Successful 

Use PET. -with 
double the cream 
of ordinary milk 

PET Milk blends creamy flavor into 
a truly distinctive pie. Richer, 
tastier, more fudgy. A ''different" pie 
you'll be proud to serve . . . wywj I ' 

anytime. . . anywhere. MILK COMPANY 


1. Put 1 cup PET Evaporated Milk, 
6-oz. pkg. (1 cup) Semi-sweet 
Chocolate Pieces, 1 cup Miniature 
Marshmallows and 1/4 teasp. Salt 

into a heavy 1 quart saucepan. Stir 
over low heat until chocolate and 
marshmallows melt completely 
and mixture thickens. Take off 
heat. Cool to room temperature. 

2. Line bottom and side of a 9 inch 
pie pan with Vanilla Wafers. 

3. Spoon half of 1 quart Vanilla Ice 

Cream over wafers. Cover with half 
of chocolate mixture. Repeat with 
rest of ice cream and chocolate. 

4. Top with pecans, if desired. 
Freeze until firm, 3 to 5 hours. 
Serves 8 to 10. 

For Variety: In place of vanilla ice 
cream use Stra. /berry, Coffee, 
Cherry or Butter Pecan Ice Cream 
in Step 3. Or us*; your family's 
favorite flavor ice cream. 

Quick Chilled 

The biggest boon to dessert lovers (and 
dessert makers) since the invention of 
ice cream is those miraculous new no- 
bake chilled-dessert mixes. 

Some turn into rich chilled souffles; 
others are refrigerator pies— with even 
the graham-cracker crumbs right in the 
package. Another is a no-bake cheese 
cake that is simplicity itself, but tastes 
like hours of work. 

The no-bake desserts are delicious as 
is, but with just a few fixings they turn 
into high-style creations that would 
once have given a professional chef gray 

In the Journal kitchens, we're so fas- 
cinated by the new chilled-dessert mixes 
that we've been turning out show-stop- 
ping chilled desserts by the dozens — 
without heating an oven ! Here are some 
of our favorites: 


A very Parisian chocolate mousse — 
double, double rich because you add 4 
little squeezable packets of ready-melted 
chocolate . . . plus the subtle sorcery of 
cinnamon, instant coffee and a dollop 
of spirits. 

2 (3V4-OZ.) pkg. 4 (l-oz.) pkg. 

chocolate-flavored ready-melted 
whipped-dessert chocolate 
mix Vs tsp. cinnamon 

1 cup cold water Vz tsp. dry instant 

1 cup cold milk coffee 

2 eggs 1 tsp. vanilla extract 

2 Tb. cognac, 
bourbon or rum 

Combine in a large bowl 2 (35^-oz.) pkg. 
chocolate-flavored whipped-dessert mix 
and 1 cup cold water. Beat with an elec- 
tric beater at high speed for 1 minute. 
Add 1 cup cold milk, 2 whole raw eggs 
and 4 (1-oz.) pkg. ready-melted choc- 
olate. Beat for 1 more minute. Then add 
} s teaspoon cinnamon, } 2 teaspoon dry 
instant coffee, 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 
and 2 tablespoons cognac, bourbon whis- 
key or rum. Beat 2 minutes longer or 
until fluffy and thick. 

Turn into an attractive shallow bowl 
and set in freezer 15 minutes or in re- 
frigerator at least 1 hour. Makes 8 


A minty cloud of a dessert for a hot day, 
concocted of whipped vanilla-dessert 
mix, pineapple and creme de menthe. 

2 Tb. green creme 
de menthe (or 

1 teaspoon 
extract and 

2 drops green food 

2 egg whites 
Va cup sugar 
6 to 8 vanilla 

Mint leaves 

V2 cup sugar 
Vz cup water 
1 (8>/2-oz.) can 


V2 cup pineapple 

juice (from 



cup milk 
1 (3V4-OZ.) pkg. 




Bring to a boil cup sugar and ^2 cup 
water. Cook over low heat for about 5 
minutes. Remove from heat. Cool. Drain 
an 8 J can crushed pineapple, reserv- 
ing ' 2 cup juice. Add the crushed pine- 
apple to the sugar syrup. 

In another bowl, combine 14 cup milk 
and 1 i'.l^-oz.) pkg. vanilla-flavored 
whippcd-desHort mix. Whip at high 
Hpwd with an electric beater 1 minute. 
Add the '2 cup reserved pineapple juice 
and 2 tablespoons gnn-n crrme de menthe 
(or 1 leanpoon peppermint i-xtract and 2 
dropH green food ciilDrinK ). Whip 2 min- 
utcM more. Add pineapple mixture. Set 
in to cool about !> minute*. 

Meanwhile, beat 2 egg'whites 
stiff. Gradually add 34 cup sugar, 
continue beating until the mixture fi 
peaks. Fold into the cooled pinea] 
dessert mixture; stir thoroughly. S 
into a 1-quart souffle dish or attra 
serving bowl. Freeze at least 2 h 
stirring occasionally. Garnish with 
leaves. Serve from its own dish act 
panied by vanilla cookies. Makes 6 


This very, very special company 
sert — which takes only about hal 
hour to put together and costs less 
a dollar— would do auyotie proud! 

V2 cup sugar 1 cup cold milk 

2 Tb. cornstarch 6 egg whites 

1 cup water V/2 tsp. cream t 
6 egg yolks, slightly tartar " 

beaten cup sugar 

2 Tb. lemon juice 1 9-inch baked 
1 Tb. butter or crust or cooki 

margarine crumb shell 

1 (9-oz.) pkg. 
dessert pie mix 

Combine cup sugar with 2 
spoons cornstarch in a medium sa 
pan. Add 1 cup water, a little at a t 
stirring until smooth. Cook over 
dium heat, stirring constantly, unti 
mixture is thick and clear— about 
4 minutes. Remove from heat. Ai 
slightly beaten egg yolks to abou 
cup of the hot mixture. 

Mix well and turn into the cornst 
mixture. Add also 2 tablespoons le 
juice, 1 tablespoon butter or marga 
Return to heat and cook, stirring 
stantly, about 3 minutes more. Ren 
from heat and allow to cool. 

In another bowl, combine 1 (9- 
pkg. lemon-flavored refrigerator-des 
pie mix and 1 cup cold milk. Witf 
electric beater, beat at low speed 
well blended. Then whip at high Sf 
for 3 to 5 minutes until mixture is t 
and fluffy. Add the egg-yolk mixt 
Mix well. 

Beat 6 egg whites until stiff. Grf 
ally add 1}4 teaspoons cream of ta 
and % cup sugar and beat until 
are shiny and form peaks. Set aside 

Spoon egg yolk-lemon mixture in 
9-inch baked pie-crust shell or coo 
crumb shell. Top with beaten egg wh 
and smooth over entire top of pie 
in 450° oven for 3 or 4 minutes or u 
the tips of the meringue are gol 
Cool, then chill in refrigerator 
firm, at least 1 hour. Makes 8 servi 


These coconut-coated "snow balls" 
an instant hit at a children's party, 
them arranged around the cake, 
a saucer topped with chocolate sauc 
or even topped with a birthday car 
instead of cake. 

1 (3Vt-oz.) pkg. 1 Tb. lemon julc 

strawberry- 1 (10-oz.) pkg. 
flavored whipped- frozen sliced 
dessert mix strawberries 

1/2 tsp. almond 1 (3V2-OZ.) can 
extract flaked coconu 

Prepare 1 (S^-oz.) pkg. strawh 
flavored whipped-dessert mix accor 
to pkg. directions. Add J 2 teaspooi 
mond extract, 1 tablespoon lemon jl 
1 (10-oz.) pkg. defrosted sliced st 
berries, mix well. Chill 15 minut 
freezer or 1 hour in refrigerator. 

Sprinkle 1 (3! 2-oz.) can flaked cc 
nut on a sheet of waxed paper or alu 
num foil. Using a large .spoon or 
cream scoop, make 6 roun<l ImllH oU 
the strawberry mixturr-. Roll in the 
conul, coating each bull. Set in free 
another 1 5 minuteH. • 


see pages 78-81 




To order instructions 
for makinR crocheted 
hat and knitted turtle- 
neck dickey, send 'lo^ 
to Ladies' Home 
Journal. Dept J.P.J.. 
Box a4. New ^'ork, 
N.Y. 10046. Ask for 
Pattern No. JPC.-46. 


Misses dress by Gavle 
Kirkpatrick. 10-18; 
4128 75c. Dress requiresS' s 
yds. of 54-in. fabric 
without nap, size 14. 

lUTTERiCK 4128 Misses coor- 
dinates. 10 16. 65<^. Jacket and 
pants require 4 yds. of 54-in. 
fabric without nap, size 14. 

I BUTTERICK 4170 Misses dress 
Emmanuelle Khanh. 10-16; 

, . Dress requires 2^s yds. of 
54-in. fabric without nap, size 
14. Contrasting bias trim re- 
quires 1% yds. of 54-in. fabric. 

BUTTERICK 3976 Misses dress 
by Deanna Littell. 10-18; 75c. 
Yoke and sleeves (cut on bias) re- 
quire yd. of 54-in. fabric 
without nap. size 14. Dress re- 
quires 2li yds. of 54-in. fabric. 

VOGUE 6909 ^ I isses evening dress. 
10-16; S2. Dress requires 2 
yds. of 54-in. fabric without nap, 
size 14. 

BUTTERICK 4205 Misses SUit. 

10-16; Ibc. Suit requires 3} i yds. 
of 54-in. fabric without nap for 
size 14. 

BUTTERICK 4128 Coordinates by 
Mary Quant. 10-16; 75c. Pants 
suit requires 21/9 yds. of 54-in. 
fabric without nap, size 14. Hat. 

\ yd. 

Buy Vogue-Butterick Patterns at the 
I store that sells them in your city. Or 
■ order by mail, enclosing check or money 
1^ Older, from Vogue-Butterick Pattern 
\ Service, P.O. Box 630, .Mtoona, Pa.* 

Also available in Canada. *Califomia 

and Pennsylvania residents please 

add sales tax. 


continued from page 59 

was being perfected for charity. His 
eyes kept asking her questions. Once, in 
the presence of turned backs, he ran his 
hands through her hair and said her face 
was pure. On the night of the perform- 
ance, Radetzki's wife, ill with mumps, 
left a conspicuous gap in the glittering 
front row of charitable ladies. Instead of 
returning to the patient, Radetzki 
asked to take Amanda home. 

He carrying his violin case, she her 
lute, they walked through Central Park 
mentioning moonlight, solitude and in- 
stant resonance between two human be- 
ings. Amanda couldn't believe that this 
should be happening to her. She studied 
him furtively, her fingers crossed. That 
slim straight Spanish nose. The glossy 
black cap of hair. The strong eyebrows 
once described by a lady journalist as 
demonic. He was dark and remote. How 
could she ever hope to be close to him? 
A pale girl with a lute. 

Then Radetzki stopped her, in the 
middle of the park, in the middle of all 
the world's moonlight. "Girl with the 
long black hair bouncing off her shoul- 
ders- what are you thinking about?" 
She found herself crushed between 
liadetzki's camel's-hair coat and his 
violin case. 

When they arrived at the apartment, 
Amanda's parrakeet said, "Boujour 
Irislexxe," and Radetzki demanded that 
the bird cage be covered. He liked the 
citron-yellow wallsand liked thehugebed 
in the center of everything, where later 
they ate tangerines and he told her that 
his leaving his wife was a matter of time. 

The moon had followed them and now 
stopped in the window, white as aspirin, 
and Radetzki was reminded of a pill he 
had to take. Was he unwell? No, merely 
allergic to this and that, .\manda 
fetched him a glass of water, and while he 
was tapping a small bottle with impa- 
tient fingertips, she stared out the win- 
dow at the Manhattan skyline, which she 
always imagined as a darkly enchanting 
gathering of unknown men, all of whom 
were waiting for her. Now for the first 
time at this magnificent sight her heart 
remained calm, and she had no longing 
to fly out there into the moonlit night 
like a pale Chagall bride. Tenderness 
was mounting in her. She took her lute 
to the armchair from which a long 
featherj' boa was coiling — "Adam my 
pet" she used to call it. Amanda played 
a love song by Thomas Campion, and 
Radetzki put aside his empty glass and 
came and kneeled at her feet. While she 
strummed dreamily, he kept sneezing, 
and from his breast pocket emerged the 
ever-present, ever so carefully laundered 
handkerchief that she came to know so 
well. "My darling polka-dot eyes," he 
said to her, and "achoo!" His suffering 
endeared him to her, and she stroked his 
hair that sparkled under her hand. "You 
must forgive me," he said, and she did, 
though the trembling of his nostrils 
never ceased to alarm her. 

What at the beginning of their friend- 
ship had been his pleaded allergies, later 
became medically established certain- 
ties. There were seventeen of them. In 
Radetzki's presence inanimate objects 
would come to life and assault, vapors 
combine to suffocate, unseen bacteria to 
infect him. Amanda gave up wearing 
velvet pants and fuzzy sweaters, stopped 
making Swedish meatballs and rose-hip 
soup. The feather boa was hidden at the 
bottom of a Spanish chest, never to bo 

opened again. The superintendent's wife 
now walked with Amanda's perfume be- 
hind her ears. And "sorry" Amanda 
would say to the flowers at the corner 
florist's when they turned their expectant 
heads toward her as she passed by 

Once Radetzki mentioned that the 
doctor had advised him to move to Ari- 
zona and start a new life. Immediately, 
she offered him the Arizona of her child- 
hood—the Arizona of the pure air where 
she had grown up on her father's ranch. 
She would write to her father at once. 

But Radetzki took the pen from 
Amanda's impulsive hands. 

"Why not?" she insisted. 

He smiled his sad little smile with his 
fine rococo mouth. For the first time, the 
fifteen years of their age difference 
seemed to come between them. He ex- 
pected her to MwderstaJid— without 

She waited for his answers. She 
waited, with her heart pounding, for him 
to speak of his wife. 

Instead, as if he were a teacher and 
she a student in his class, he gave her an 
example. Caprice, hisdog. Many timesthe 
doctor had told him to give up Caprice, 
whose furry presence would quicken 
the constriction in his chest. But how 


By Suzanne Douglass 

Crib: A rocking conveyance that 
travels by caster 
And bumps into walls and 
gouges out plaster. 
Blanket: A satin-bound cover that warms 
the spot 
At the foot of the bed where 
the baby is not. 
Scale: Where baby wiggles and 
screams with alarm 
And mother will wind up 
by weighing her arm. 
Playpen: The most useful item beyond 
any doubt; 
To relax, just climb in it and 
shut baby out. 

could he leave Caprice who was a joy to 
him and loved him selflessly? Even 
if his separation from his wife was a mat- 
ter of time— what about Caprice? How 
should they ever decide which one was 
to have the dog? It wasn't a child, it 
couldn't be asked to choose. 

Sensitive to the sagging of his pupil's 
spirits, the teacher took her into his 
arms. "Amanda, Amanda . . . I'll go and 
see a witch doctor, OK?" 

"Can't you ever leave . . . anybody?" 
she asked. 

He kissed her better than ever. 

Sometimes Radetzki would go away 
on concert tours, taking his wife along. 
"Otherwise she wouldn't stop crying," 
he had explained to Amanda. Radetzki's 
wife would cry if Radetzki wasn't home 
by midnight. She would cry if he 
wouldn't let her fix his tie. She would cry 
if they wouldn't take their ten-o'clock 
stroll in the park, every Sunday morn- 
ing, with Caprice. She would cry if he 
didn't keep his arm around her when 
they went to sleep in the bed that her 
parents had given them as a wedding 
gift. These details of his married life 
Radetzki would relate to Amanda with 
gestures of helplessness. Was he to 
blame if his wife loved him so? 

Amanda drew a picture {continued) 



Sore Toes 

Dr. SchoM's Super-Soft Zino-pads 

provide fast, cushioning protec- 
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pressure. Relieve pain of corns, 
callouses, bunions and sore toes. 
Protect tender spots. 

Separate medicated disks in- 
cluded in package to help remove 
corns, callouses — one of the 
quickest ways known to medical 

Put Zino-pads on at first sign 
of irritation, wherever shoes 
rub or pinch. Discover the joy 
of pain-free walking again. 





Zi no -pods 

How to tell her 
about menstruation? 
The easiest way! 

Let our Kotex Introductory Kit be 
your guide. Each kit contains: two 
bright and informative booklets for her 
— facts she should know before her 1 1th 
birthday, a helpful Mother's pamphlet 
for you, a petite Miss Deb belt, a dainty 
Bikini napkin holder, and a whole as- 
sortment of Kotex napkins, including 
the slimmer Miss Deb napkins for be- 
ginners only. The kit costs just .S2.00. 
To order, mail the coupon below. > 


Miss Marion Jones, Kimberly-Clark Corp. 
Educational Dept., Box 511, Dept. LH86 
Neenah, Wisconsin 54956 

Please send me the Kotex Introductorj' Kit. 
My check or money orderforS2.00isenclosed. 
(My daughter's age is ) 





Please allow four weefis for delivery. 
Available In Continental U.S.A. only. 


THE CHAGALL BfUOE coniiniuid 

aad maoves of Raioir: x see^, ucAHty, 

meltiiiff woman, oiorediblj" fra3» wtdi 
eves m<; isu, her heart always palpftating 
behind a caacaie of lace. She most fae 
ravTshinff. ?iie cramps her foot: "PauLl 

-Xm^in. ia, out SUe tia..l 

aot to- She only became 
little thinna-. Ir was 
then that mobiles began 
spinning in her head and 
sfc- • -r appetite for 
:ver sand- 
W-. j^-i. . m worry too 
much," said RadetzkL 
"What in heaven are 
you wor r >Lu g about?'' 
He bought her the kr/rttr- 
botiloi — Greek worry 
beads made of amfae-. 
The beads clicked with 
a soothing sound as she 
gHrt the string through 
fas fiwgp*^ , waiting for 
ha- mvnA to be lulled. 
But she kept thinking of 
Radeczki and his wife 
together in ears, trains 
and on planes, their 
breaths mingling in the 
four walls of their mar- 
riage, alwasrs. She began 
to trhfnlf of him as a 
"married man, " and of 
herself as "the other 
woman." She saw her- 
self condemned. Oh, kt- 
dies and gentlemen of 
the iury — am I guilty? 


new red dress was 
- - - vn over a chair and, 

- at it, A marrfla 

.;>r'ij.^ to feel better, as 

if aU that cr fmsa m harf 

- - - - , :fae di- 
. - -puscles 
iii utr ; . - ilipped 
ft ov=- --^i and 


-■ - - 4- 
HaosB aan - 's 

pamtrngs. . ~e<i 
knees gavr x 
Hiecfaar - 
look, f : them 

past rying 
to look sexy. "Do you 
like ray femur, my tnhia, 
my par^la, darling?^ 
she would ask RadetzkL 
Anat0!r.-"aL Latia 
sound"- ■ r<i. She 

laugh-. - laugh- 

ter 'fame vut aito, and 
'iidc ■jeiocg. Womtrn x. 
aag>iLar 'ireaees ciigii- 

■ up 

deczki "A whole y^rt Thank you, Mr. 
Joseph Ha^xin- Thank you^ charitafale 
ladies. Thank yoo, oh, father, who 
gave hs daagii£a' a Eate. Tkaaxk gnv. 

Embracing har, he toE&ed ^imawftt's 
■ in. She cqoM tecogHBBB 
-Job tooch of bar ociae. 
r.<i.i. ;.:e ^id0i: seat fauBtfr gcveo: 

RadetzJd by a v^edl wonmi; m fimsK of 
St. Patrick's. 

"Your hair ... wfeen^ hav^ ytm besi 

}sis h= «« «<.i u 2g £f Ixcde- aQCes wae soil 

TTtny Amiafc ihmw a^amm ^^^ Kai Mmrf 

CBBSr aassQeoB. He taofc bar »m, cae- 
en tifae- msiidfr <!£ ^ Gwusibji-a^re^t cwfti 

niM f%iiiiiiiwliii "JiBwa;^ I fencv wftaib 

Sbwers pamsed on it. Waffpaper wtfifc 

yes, there's a pill 
for people who 
don't know what 
they're missing. 


Mast of us know that a ^<e^y impcrtHnt pat of gaad nutrition, is gating ail' the 
vitamins \«<e need. And mast af us try to g©: then from oiir reguia' rrr^ls. 
But vwhei we're not sure, ther&'s a wsv^ to hs«e a tSttie insurance. Q Take 
QIUE-A-DAY'* (Brand) lUuitiple Vitamins, the piil for people vwha don't krras<« 
>yvhat thev're missing. Q'ME-A-DAY ever^ ds/ gives >au ai! the wtamims 
essential Ki hetp marrtain good health. ~ That you can count an. A smallt 
victor/, perhaps. (Sut in tad»/'s campi©« worlds a victor/ ne/etheiess.); 
©1956. IVtlLES LABOFIATORSES. SINiC. Consumar Products Division 

"Hy Setther :.:a. 
oaete it on'^ ;:r 

(Mb. I Itf at 


'^ey in the 

: ike the 

-i feczki 

. a 

today? ? - 
leased - • 

his fi■CB9rtIIP^' 


tdke :a 


faartMlky oa - 


Id-time movie, she expected three fig- 
res to come out of the fog toward her 

It was ten minutes past ten. A man 
ae shape of a Christmas tree emerged 
om the park his coat open, a red 
hawl dangUng down his front to the 
nees. He gave her a whistle pitched in 
I and went deeper into the uptown fog. 
t closed behind him. 

Amanda wished she'd had her worry 
eads with her. She wished she'd taken a 

nquilizer. She wished 
he cold wouldn't sneak 
p her legs, for now her 
ose would turn red, and 
n this getup she would 
ook like a snowman. Or 
n orphan, peering in 
rom the outside. Peer- 
ng in on what? The 
ogetherness of the 

To Whomever It May 
Joncern: Please let 
hem come. Now! 

She is the image of a satisfied woman, 
she is Mrs. Paul Radetzki who takes 
care of his fan mail and his tie before he 
goes on stage. 

Embarrassed by the stare, Amanda 
lowered hei eyes. Caprice was looking up 
at her with the same curious and tri- 
umphant eyes as Mrs. Radetzki's. Only 
in the dog's eyes there was a spark of 
humor. As if Caprice thought: Now I 
know where that smell comes from. The 
pretty little red spaniel cocked her head 

"Well, we don't want to keep you," 
said Radetzki's wife, dipping her strong 
chin into her small soft mink collar. 
Caprice suddenly shot forward and 
plunged with her paws into Amanda's 
white coat. Radetzki's wife angrily 
pulled her back. 

"Good-bye," said Amanda to Ra- 

He withdrew into the collar of his 
camel's-hair coat, the knight and the 

er heart sank. Out 
)f the fog they waded, 
hree forms, and one of 
hem became Radetzki's 
amel's-hair coat. They 
Mvre now crossing the 
ivenue toward the park, 
Radetzki, the dog, and 
Radetzki's wife. By the 
erk of his shoulders 
\nianda knew he had seen 
ler and was nervous. 
There was no safety 
xit anywhere. And 
there could be no pre- 
tense of having run into 
them accidentally. She 
saw his face and knew 
he disliked her for that. 

Well, I've done it, she 
thought. Now I must 
look at her. 

Radetzki's wife was 
unexpectedly tall, taller 
than he, and much 
larger. Not a Renoir 
woman at all. The 
woman who cried if he 
didn't put his arm 
around her at night. 
The woman who could- 
n'tbetoldthetruth. The 
woman who didn't know 
Amanda existed. She 
walked unperturbed 
from the top of her lac- 
quered head to her firm, 
unerring feet. As they 
reached Amanda, she 
said to Radetzki, "Why 
must you breathe so 
hard? This air isn't 
good for you." 

Handsome in a ra- 
pacious way, she glanced 
at Amanda, whom she 
stranger, with curiosity. 
"Hello," said Amanda. 
"Amanda," said Radetzki. 
They stopped as Amanda held them 
with her eyes. 

"What a surprise. . . ." Radetzki 
turned to his wife. "You don't know 
Miss Jenkins, do you? We have per- 
formed together — Miss Jenkins is a 
lutist. . . . How are you, Amanda?" 

"Pleased to meet you," said Radetzki's 
wife, while Amanda said nothing. Boor- 
ish, thought Amanda, the way she looks 
me over, from head to foot. And she 
inn't the least bit fragile and sufifering. 

thought a 

and looked, in turn, at Amanda and her 

Now all three were staring at Amanda: 
Radetzki's eyes velvet, his wife's prac- 
tical denim, Caprice's made of amber. 
But somehow they looked alike. The 
longish faces, the suspicious nostrils, the 
reserved exjjressions. Radetzki, in the 
presence of his wife and his dog, had be- 
come theirs. Could it mean that he was 
happy with them? 

Yes, they looked alike and completely 
satisfied with themselves. 

Amanda refused to believe that. She 
searched Radetzki's face. He looked at 
neither woman, but patted Caprice. 

The Radetzkis walked away into their 
part of the fog, Amanda into hers. Step- 
ping in the soft, silent fog she chanted to 
herself, "That's all, that's all, that's all." 
She walked ahead probing her heart for 
breaks. But there was nothing. At the 
moment she felt only relief. How wrong 
had she been about Radetzki ! Well then, 
hew wrong? "Oh, Paul, Paul . . ." she 
cried out, "Oh, Paul!" The proud Span- 
ish nose, the fine rococo mouth, the sad- 
ness of his eyes. How could he live with 
such a woman? 

Unless he loved her, truly loved her. 

Oh, Paul, oh, my Paul! said 
Amanda to herself. 

The Sunday stretched endlessly to the 
east, the west, the north, the south. 
Amanda was in the middle, the small ner- 
vous compass needle that didn't get 
anywhere ever. 

She needed to do something now. 
She remembered having been given 
some invitation for the evening. Re- 
membered laughter: "Amanda? But 
she won't come. Not Amanda. Say, 
maybe she would?" Someone in the 
crowd had written something on a slip 
of paper and put it into 
her purse. 

There it was: "Open 
house at Jacques' place, 
Manhasset. Bob's new 
Variations On Three 
TV Commercials for 
Piano, Recorder and 
Krummhorn will be 

She would go. She 
would wear her new 
pants suit for the coun- 
try, and a fuzzy sweater, 
and smell of Chanel, 
and Balmain, and Yves 
St. Laurent — a different 
perfume behind each ear 
and kneecap. She would 
rob the nearest drug- 
store if need be. 

At home she freed 
Adam the feather boa 
from its Spanish prison. 
It coiled up at once in 
the armchair, the sym- 
bol of her independence. 

Amanda sat down on 
her bed, for a mo- 
ment's rest. The win- 
dow hung into the 
room, white with marsh- 
mallow fog. How many 
dreams had flown out 
there, dressed as golden 
birds with harps, prin- 
cesses with half-moon 
breasts, brides with 
flower eyes? 

The Greek worry 
beads, limpid as Ca- 
price's eyes, stared at 
her from the bed, so 
many eyes. She started 
running them through 
her fingers. Every- 
thing is going to be all 
right, she thought, 
everything will be all 
right . . . soon. The 
beads rolled against 
each other with a gentle 
clicking sound. On and 
on they clicked, sooth- 
ingly, and on and on 
Amanda cried. 

Slowly the day dark- 
ened into afternoon. 
Amanda pulled herself 
up from the bed. Mobiles were spinning: 
black stars, blue comets, red suns. She 
groped her way toward the window. The 
fog had begun to lift from the city like a 
bridal veil, the white ascension now 
reaching heaven. Then, one after an- 
other, the skyscrapers started to light 
up, oh, brilliant, brilliant. Her suitors 
were back, waiting. END 

mmt%0% 'S THERE. 





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and forth, as the mood moves them, 
b e tw a cu group siDging, d a nring and 
games and individiial sdf-esiNBssion 
throagh day modding. painting, earr- 
ing, weaving. A teadier may tdl a stay 
or play tape-recorded music. Weather 
peradtting, a good deal of time is ^ent 
ootdoois. Here the focns of activity— a 
DaniA nonovatian that has been adopted 
the vorid over — is the "jimk," "adven- 
tttre." or '"Robinson Crusoe" play- 
ground. Over a inde area are scattered 
haptanairdly a variety of materials sal- 
vaged from coostroctMn ates — boards, 
planks^ bricks, ' boxes — and teams of 
children use them to bnSd undeigronnd 
ahdters, huts, tree houses, even toy vil- 
lages vith gardens and roads. So valu- 
able do Danisfa edncatms consider the 
junk pla ygroun ds, in Ae way they eoin- 
bine tlie jqy of creation with tedmieal 
training, that die Copenhagen Bulling 
Act stipulates that housing de!vei<q>- 
ments intended for more than eigbt 
famiHffs mixst indude one. 

By tlie time Jan's motiier calls for 
him in the afternoon, he is brimming 
over with things to tell her all the ridi, 
new <fiseoveries he made that day. 

The Dani^ day-care centers set their 
iee& according to the parents' combined 
inoame. If it totals less than 30.000 
kroner a year, the chaige is nothing. In 
the Ramsdaks' bracket of 30.000-40/100. 
the fee is 28 kroner i^S2.) a we^ 
Above 40JOOO. it's doidile that amount. 
Even at its highest the cost is hardy 
half what an Americsn eoople must pay 
the average private nmsay schooL 

Avaflable to wwking mother only, 
the cBBters indude 139 erSdhes. or infant 
nurseries, for todiflas vqi to three years 
aid, 772 hoenuhmai for the three-to- 
seven-year-aM graop, and 177 leisure- 
tinie retreats offering after-dass ree- 
reation to achooldifldreB seven to 14. 
Finally, thae are the yontii dubs* wber- 
hie|i-uLhoal students meet evenings 2z. z 
weAe nds for games and sports. Th^: 
have proven sd attractive to yuungstr; 
keeping so many of them off the stree ' 
tihat the poliee cwnsidpr them a maj . : 
reason for Denmark's negligible ind- 
denee of juvenle ddinqmn^. 

AD together the 1473 eentera can 
aooommodate about 50,000 children. 
But, m view of tlie eonntiy's soaring 
annual birthrate (birthslpst year topped 
SOjOOO^ tlus is not enoueli. and about 
1,000 additional centos have been 
pbinnpd over the next 10 years. 

The vast majority are "apptwed in- 
s^rutSans," which means that state and 
~ . une" (the eooitiy is divided into 
A them) meet all the eosts of 
eonacnictian and equipment ptna most 
of the operating expenses. ^pedfieaBy. 
of the operating expenses, the state pays 
40 percent and the commune 30 percent. 
The *— ^■■^ on e s from the parents. 
The IS66 state budget for the whole 
range from erfidhr to youth dub is 
£«.4 oiDian kroner (roughly $12 nil- 
lion i. TTnap p ro ve d iiiKitutions "— that 
is, privatdy finanred and owned— num- 
ber only &3l 

To Bilgjttc Ramadak, who priaa in- 
dividuality, an entcipriae ao heaviy 
atat» ndinJind at first foreboded the 
woret aina of borcauaatic intcrfcmce, 
tegirtifntationaad ii— itiilinnalin, with 
d riMi» u in umfonns and tmted as ata- 
tiatick. But abe aoon found that tbe 
ecntan txke pains to maintain an at- 
of warm informality, provid- 

ing the maximum scope for faee, creative 
play. To that end, the siise <A the group 
is limited, rardy exceeding 20 duldrai. 
with two or three adults ass^ed to 
each group. 

These adults are not m^e nursonaids, 
but graduates of intensive training pro- 
grams in early cfaOdhood education. Ko 
fewer than 19 Danish colleges give such 
training, and the courses cover two to 
three years. The ai^icant must be over 
21, mu^ have worked as a hdper in a 
nuiserj^ school and performed domestic 
chores in a private home with children. 
To work with children under three, 
three years of stud>' are required, indud- 
ing six months in a cliildpen's hospitaL 

In the United States, the limited day- 
care projeds that do exist are almost 
wholly dominated by women. Not many 
American men accept nursery-school 
tendiing as a worthy, dignified — or ade- 
qiEUbely profitable — career. But at a 
Copenhagen nursery teachers' school 
Jens SSsgaard had no trouble iusUtuting 
dasses for men, and today a number of 
Ms pujrils proudly devote themsdves 
fun time to day-care jobs. "Ideally, 
tiiere diould be at least one man <m 
every center staff." Sisgaard saj-s, "be- 
cause dbfldren of divorced, widowed or 
unmarried women need a father image." 

Tlioagh tlie govenunait foots most of 
the bin and sets mmimnin ^andards erf 
housing, hygiene and teachers' qualifi- 
cations, Denmark's day-care centers re- 
main largely autonomous. Many are 
a^Banised by mioffidal grol^l6 such as 
church conunittees, parent-teacher as- 

sociations, ndgfaborfaood famDy groufx 
Few Danes, moreover, think of them a 
charit}- agencies for parents who can' 
afford pri\-ate schools or baby-sirten 
Paraits of ever>- economic and profa 
sional stratum are eager to enroll thd 
children. "Evai if we could afford . 
governess for Jan," sa>-s Birgitte, "w 
would still said him to the center, be 
cause we bdieve he can't begin to 
young to learn to adjust himself to th 
needs and rights of others, and that i 
the great experience at the centers." 

The Ramsdaks" neighbors. Car) Jen 
sen, an Air Force captain, and his wife 
Kirsten, a bookkeeper, whose daughte 
£^"3 attends the same kindergarten 
heartfly agree. "The most importan 
reascHi for entering E\"a was not eco| 
nomic," Captain Jensen declares. "Is 
was simply that, being ten years younge | 
than her brother, our only other child : 
she was too much alcoe. She was gettiai r 
to be sdfish, demanding. At the kicder : 
garten she learned to enjoy he.-s<^.: as ; • 
m«nber of a group." 

Erik Holm is an editor in the pres : 
seetifln of the Foreign Minisny. Hi t 
wife, Bse, campaigns tirelessly lor til Ir 
influential Social Liberal Party, and lai c 
election was narrowly defeated as : r 
porliamaitan.- candidate. In a cour.:r 
where few people are verj- rich or . er 
poor, the Holms belong, economic^..;, 
to the upper middle dass. They c - r. 
spadous country house near Elslr. :r 
and two cars. They also have a live-i 
maid. Yet they wouldn't dream of send, 
ing their daughter, Ame, age four, any 

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ty Sizes 3-6X: f!l. At T ■ - 

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IT. Red .oisper cvt-.* . _- ^ - - - - 

sweaw-r of CWon knit by Poru^aiio- Sizes ^t >. $: 
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"xA Orion widc^riir 
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pages 74-75 

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21. GritfeL ^-ssi. ^'.-JL r«i aad navy trim, o' :• 
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iwgwiB. D.C. tL brascfaes: Josefdi ' 
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$9. At B. A. - 
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dress by Kai*- G- 
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finckel & Co., T, _ . 
Z.C.M.I.. SaJt Li.- 
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t)«. At Vara a 

piaeei 60-63 

MA HERE abiped »d»Hma aad falaek wtvna 
dnwa: TW UmtmrniCr Xait. nillaaiiii. W 
laiwiliia. rUiililiiliis Hicbce'a. CVvdand T 
Uaa'adte Shova. PHM aad Poalaac Miebicaii: 
BabyC mi c. IMbiK Mamity Modca. Dmiw 
JEJiNBTTB liATERNmr •t'*aa»4ras t%> 
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Sha^ millia 1 1 HaBr Broa.. Opvciaad 
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''kby Cmlig. DuMm: UaXmmity M k 
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. .T-K BaWinwi; Ugbw'*. g i w ia r d 1 anDf Wh mn. FVat am4 Poatiac; Mk-hifMi: 
Ma> DA F. I>M«W. 


except the local boernehave, just as 
lid her brother Soren before he 
■d school age. 

ghtened self-interest has prompted 
of Denmark's leading industrial 
inies to establish day-care centers, 
'"'aced with a severe manpower 
.ge in a rapidly exi^anding econ- 
they urgently need women work- 
mong the most persuasive benefits 
)flFer to attract women is a combi- 
of nursery and kindergarten for 
ihildren. Of the 3,500 people em- 
1 by the great Tuborg brewery, for 
)le, 600 are women who do mainly 
bly-line work, such as inspecting 
icking bottles. Those with children 
•school age can bring them along, 
?ar the gate, flanked by a junk 
frouiul, stands a bright, airy, one- 
building containing 20 gaily deco- 
rooms. A staff of 15 qualified 
[ers handles 60 children one adult 
'■ery four children - ranging in age 
a few weeks to seven years. The 
en receive medical care, food and 
to take home, and even some 
?s sewn by the staff. Since the plant 
tes in two shifts, the first starting 
|tO A.M., the center stays open from 
to dark. Working a 44-hour week, 
liothcrs earn, on the average, 375 
■r ($51.50) a week. They pay the 
r 18 kroner ($2.52) a week the first 
years, then 27 kroner ($3.68). 

it November Copenhagen's Mu- 
iil Hospital launched a center for 
hildren of its nonmedical person- 
Phis project may serve as an archi- 
ral model for many of the centers 
o be built. Designed by three emi- 
architects at the request of the 
istry of Social Affairs to meet re- 
ments of the strictest economy, it 
sts of prefabricated modules that 
barely si.x weeks to assemble, and 
in labor and materials, no more 
$20,000. Twenty-five such units 
been erected elsewhere in Den- 
and scores more are in the plan- 
or construction stage. 
\e hospital center, run by five teach- 
a student teacher and a general 
r, maintains two separate units, 
ursery and a kindergarten, each 
ned to accommodate the optimum 
ber of 20 children. They stay open 
n days a week from 6:30 .^.M. to 
P.M. The waiting list is long, 
ay-care centers originated in Den- 
k as far back as the 19th century, 
at the outset were conceived solely 
n aid to poor families. The program 
ived its strongest impetus after 
Id War II, under pressure of the 
)lem of the "latch-key children" — 
ngsters whose working parents were 
ed to leave them alone all day and 
efore hung the house key around 
r necks so they could let themselves 
Irhe commune of Gladsaxe, where the 
nsdaks live, for e.xample, then had 
three centers. Today it has 35, and 
ould hardly be more obvious that 
T purpose extends far beyond eco- 
lic aid. 

"hough Denmark was the first to 
itute them and remains the most 
anced in the field, the centers are 
f common all over Scandinavia. Fin- 
d has 182. Norway, with 2.59, also 
vides a kind of peripatetic kinder- 
ten conducted by "park aunts, " who 
•ervise 20 to 30 children at play in 
olic parks or playgrounds. The park 
Its, 500 of them all together, are 
ponsible for about 10,000 children. 

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- - 

According to the specifications pre- 
scribed by Sweden's Social Welfare 
Board, which supports more than 1,300 
day-care centers, "The object is to 
create children who are independent, 
who enjoy their occupations and who 
are well balanced both socially and in 

Among American experts in early 
child education, by sharp contrast, 
dissatisfaction with the day-care 
facilities available in this country is 
almost unanimous. Thus, Mrs. Mildred 

Rabinow, a prominent parent educator 
on the staff of the Child Study Associa- 
tion of America, says: "It is astound- 
ing—and deplorable — that the little 
Scandinavian countries, with their lim- 
ited means, took a long step many years 
ago toward solving an important social 
problem which we Americans have 
barely begun to tackle. While U.S. day- 
care programs have been expanding 
since the war, they are designed chiefly 
to relieve hardship cases — that is, to 
take children off the hands of mothers 

who either trnist work, out of dire eco- 
nomic necessity, or who face some physi- 
cal or emotional crisis. 

"No system exists here, outside of the 
expensive private nursery schools, which 
both benefits the child and frees the 
mother with special skills who wants to 
use those skills. Government and indus- 
try could collaborate to mutual advan- 
tage to develop such a system." 

(This is the third in a series of articles 
on day-care centers.) 


those horrid 

age spots* 


•Weathered brown spots on the surface of 
your hands and face tell the world you're 
getting old— perhaps before you really are. A 
new, cream called Esoterica fades them away, 
as it moisturizes, lubricates the skin. Masses 
of pigment break up. roughness disappears, 
your skin looks clearer, younger. Esoterica 
works equally well on hands, face, arms and 
neck. Makes a wonderful hand cream and 
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department stores and drug stores. If you 
want your skin to be free of blemishes, 
fairer, younger looking, begin using Esoterica 
today. 90-day supply, S2.00. Available in 
Canada and Mexico. 

ESOTERICA SOAP softens skin, helps 
clear surface blemishes. Combats dryness. 


and Nail Biting 

Just paint on 
704 at your 
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for the special 


bound between pages 
72 and 73 of this issue! 

Shrinks Hemorrhoids 
New Way Without Surgery 


For the first time science has found a 
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In case after f-ase, while gently reliev- 
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Most ama/ing of all - results were so 
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The secr' t i« a now healing substance 
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new color and great good looks would mean 
nothing, of course, unless combined with 
a high level of performance. The appliances 
we show here and on page 76 were chosen 
because they are outstanding in both ways. 
Some of the ranges, for example, have 
ovens that clean themselves; burners and 
units with built-m monitors that regulate heat 
all through the cooking process. There are 
refrigerators and freezers that need no 
defrosting (no build-up of frost on packages 
in the freezer). There are rotisserie ovens 
with spits that brown roasts and fowl to a 
juicy, even turn. And dishwashers with 
cycles that take care of even the most fragile 
glassware and china, and some that even 
rinse dishes each time you stack them 
in the machine — so that you can allow a 
full load to accumulate from several 
meals before washing. In addition to wild 
color and good performance, most 
of the appliances here have a third great 
feature: almost all are durable and 
wonderfully easy to keep clean. 

Below • Sojl-green Magic 
Chef gas range—part of a 

line of fire colors. jjjjjj^ 

Lefl: Siin-gold 
Whirlpool (iish- 
ivasher is color- 
coordinated to 
other appliances 
in line. 

Design on dibson 
refrigerator malches 
vinyl wall covering. 

. \hiiii . Oliii Caloric gas 
range. Matching sinks 
— find hoods arc arailahlc. 


conliiiHcd from poijc 72 

photographs. His hand slammed dowi 
iiard on one stack. "This phony halonoy !' 
he cried. "This not belong!" 

Soshnick turned over the photo- 
sraphs. He had included, as a control 
photoKraphs of a .s-«/m/ murder case— 
a woman who had been strangled by hei 
husband. Hurkos l()()k(>d at him liercelj 
for a moment, then burst into laughter 
"Ah, you think, 'This Hurkos a faker 
show him up.' Eh?" 

His hand circled again, hovered ovei 
one stack, then came down hard. "Thii 
one, this top one, show dead woman 
legs apart— 1 see her, one hand up, on( 
down, funny way. Here, I show you.' 
He got on the floor, crooked one knee 
put one arm up, one down, turned hi^ 
head sideways with a grimace. "That 
woman like this!" 

Soshnick turned the top photograpl 
right side up. It showed Anna Slesen 
as she had been found— precisely in th« 
position Hurkos described. 

Hurkos scrambled to his feet. Agair 
he brought his hand down on a stack 
again he demonstrated the posture, 
Once more the photograph was that of t 
victim— this time, Beverly Samans, a 
she had been found on her sofa-bed i 
Cambridge, one leg over the edge. 

"O.K., give me stockings," Hurko 
said. He moved the stockings, scarves 
brassieres and blouses through his liand.' 
"I feel man who killed!" he cried, 
see him ... he is not too big, five fee 
seven, eight. ... He weigh one-thirty 
one-forty pounds." He had a "spitzj 
nose" — a sharp nose— a scar on his lef 
arm where he had been hurt by ma 
chinery. "Something wrong with thuml 
— no feeling, bad skin, something. . 
Hurkos spoke swiftly, in spurts, describe 
ing the way the Strangler had abused a 
victim. He was describing 19-year-olc 
Mary Sullivan's body, with detail 
known only to a few detectives. 


-urkos ran his fingertips over 
blouse. "This man— he not sleep ii^ 
bed. No mattress, nothing. He sleep fla' 
on floor. Not a colored man. White 
But ... he make it colored." A pause 
"He love shoes." Pause. "I need map.' 

Soshnick tore a city map from a tele; 
phone director.v. Peter drew a smal 
circle. "I see man live here ... he \ 
priest . . . no, not priest, he dress lik 
priest, I see him with many priests." Hi 
linger moved over an area embracini 
Boston College and St. John's Semi 
nary. "This man, he get free soup, he n( 
pay. He speak French, English, I hea 
French accent. . . ." 

Friday morning, January 31, Sosh 
nick and Detective Davis drove Hurko: 
into Boston to see Bottomly. While the; 
waited in Bottomly 's office, Sergean 
Martin came in. "Peter, what do yot 
make of this'?" He handed Hurkos 
letter. Instead of reading it, Hurko; 
crumpled it in his fist, his eyes closedj 
"By God, he do it ! This is the one— h« 
the murderer!" 

Soshnick grabbed the crumpled lette: 
and spread it flat. Dated a few day; 
earlier, it was addressed to the Bostoi 
College School of Nursing. The signa 
lure, we will say, was "Thomas P 
O'Mrien." Tiie sender's address was ii 
the upper right-hand corner. The lette; 
read, in part : 

hear Miiiliim ■ 

I iitn II hiichi'lor unci for Hninc liiriu linn 
I've wuMli'd I" riKH't II Kdoil Ciilliiilic niirai 


'ho might have graduated from nursing 
;ho()l about 1950; even an undergraduate 
bout that time would be okay; one who is 
/orking in or near Boston. 

I've even had the idea of doing an article 
n this class, interviewing as many as pos- 
ible. Perhaps while interviewing, I might 
ee a nurse who might like me as much as I'd 
ike her, and if so, we could begin a friend- 
hip that might lead to the altar. 

"Yes!" cried Hurkos, "He the man!" 
Sergeant Martin said that Boston 
College had turned the letter over to the 
3oston police, who had sent it to 
iomicide that morning. 
3ottomly put several 
nen on the phones. The 
Jtate Police produced a 
ecord on O'Brien: As 
ar back as 1962 some- 
)ne had sent in a tip on 
lim. A brother had tried 
,0 persuade him to com- 
■nil himself for treat- 
-nent. For a short time 
3'Brien had lived with 
ihe Trappist monks at 
iSt. .lohn'sSeminary, but 
the discipline was too 
much for him. It was a 
French order, many 
spoke with a French ac- 
ent; its members 
dressed like priests, they 
were fed bread and soup. 
Ves, he had worked as a 
salesman, a door-to-door 
.salesman of ladies' shoes. 
More specifically, 
luirses' shoes. 

about a new suspect— we'll call him 
David Parker, which is not his name. 
With Hurkos pursuing Thomas O'Brien, 
the shoe salesman. Detectives DiNatale 
and Mellon checkmg on Arnold Wallace 
and Paul Gordon, and various com- 
mittees—medical, computing, legal — 
at work, Bottomly felt like a juggler 
trying to keep a dozen plates spinning. 
But something had to be done immedi- 
ately about Parker, because charges had 
been brought against him. 

now?" He could see in the anteroom a 
young girl, far along in pregnancy, 
watching nervously. 

Roscoe, cruising through Harvard 
Square, had come upon a crowd watch- 
ing Parker trying to force the girl into his 
car. As Parker fought with her his jacket 
opened, revealing a dagger stuck in his 
belt. Roscoe arrested him. 

Sergeant Davenport had spent months 
working on the murder of Beverly 
Samans. Now he turned to Parker, who 


s each fact was elic- 
ted mental illness, the 
French accent, the men 
like priests, the soup, 
lose in the room grew 
more tense. Door-to- 
loor selling - this gave 
ucess to apartments. 
.\ iirses' shoes was this 
llie long-sought hospital 
ink'.' Bottomly sent De- 
tective Davis and Hur- 
kos to call on "Thomas 
O'Brien." They found 
tile address, a dilapi- 
dated rooming house, 
and rapped on O'Brien's 
door. When it opened 
they saw the wan face of 
a slight, middle-aged, 
pinch-nosed man. 

"Mr. O'Brien, you 
wrote to Boston Col- 
ege — — " Davis began. 

"I don't want to see 
anyone," O'Brien said, 
and shut the door. The 
voice was effeminate. 
They heard the bolt 
drawn, then the scrape 
of a chair being jammed 
under the knob. 

As they went down 
the steps Peter Hurkos exclaimed, "He 
the man! He the murderer!" 

Twenty minutes later they held coun- 
cil with Bottomly, They couldn't ques- 
tion O'Brien because there were no 
criminal charges against him. But Sosh- 
nick remembered a statute that allowed 
a physician to commit any i)erson acting 
oddly to a mental institution, if the 
superintendent agreed, for 10 days' ob- 
servation. Once O'Brien was hospital- 
ized, they could question him. Soshnik 
would also obtain a warrant to search 
O'Brien's room. 

Bottomly was poring over a report 

The Modern 
Denture Wearer 

She cleans her dental plates 
with Polident every morning, 
every evening. Wherever she 
goes, whoever she meets, she 
knows her breath is sweet, her 
smile bright, her 
mouth refreshed. 
Polident: powder 
or premeasured 

Take your pick. 

Parker smiled broadly. "Bravo, Ser- 
geant," he said. "As a matter of fact, 
I'm living the part," 

"Except for one thing . . ." 
"I know," said Parker. "I don't put 
on enough Man-Tan to make my face as 
dark as the Moor's." 

The girl was his wife. She refused to 
come into the room until her husband 
had been led out. "I'm scared to death 
of him," she said. "He tried to strangle 
me once. I think he was on LSD, , , ." 

When had they been 
married? "Two weeks 
ago," she said, "January 
fourth," That was the 
day Mary Sullivan had 
been strangled. The girl 
said that Parker be- 
lieved the baby about to 
be born was not his, but 
his closest friend's, "And 
he insisted, just the 
same, on having him as 
his best man at our wed- 
ding. He's so strange!" 

Sergeant Davenport 
recalled that in Olhello, 
the Moor kills his wife, 
thinking she has be- 
trayed him with his best 
friend. He sent for Da- 

Dentists surveyed recommend Polident 9- 
over any ordinary toothpaste. 

vid Parker's probation 
records, and spent the 
next days interviewing 
the boy's friends. What 
he had learned now held 
Bottomlv's attention, 

David Parker had 
studied drama, attended 
a school on karate. He 
told friends he took hal- 
lucinogenic drugs. One 
had found him walking 
in circles in his room, 
striking his head 
the walls. He had been 
treated recently at West- 
boro Hospital, The court 
[jhysician who recom- 
mended his hospitaliza- 
tion thought he was suf- 
fering from "acute 
schizophrenia." A 
schoolmate said, "He 
was brought up by 
women and nurses, and 
he hated them," 


The Parker story, as unfolded to 
Bottomly by Cambridge police, had 
begun on the afternoon of January 22, 
Detective Sergeant Leo F. Da\enport 
was at his desk at police headquarters, 
Cambridge, when Officer James Roscoe 
brought in a tall, bearded youth. His 
black hair, obviously dyed, was in ring- 
lets pasted on his forehead; a gold ear- 
ring pierced his right ear; his face had 
been darkened by a suntan preparation, 
and he wore sandals on sockless feet— 
this in mid-January, Davenport knew 
him as a former Harvard student, a 

"Hello, David," he said. "What's it 

had been listening to Roscoe's recital in 
high good humor. Only six weeks before, 
David had been marched into the sta- 
tionhouse on the same charge— disturb- 
ing the peace. He had been ringing 
doorbells, then careering through back- 
yards, dancing and singing. More than 
two years before, he had been caught sell- 
ing dangerous mind-expanding drugs to 
students in Harvard Square. He was 
promptly dropped from the university. 

"David," Sergeant Davenport said, 
"I can recognize the way you're 
dressed— the dagger, the earrings, the 
beard, the hair, the stuff on your face— 
you look just like Othello." 

hat might be 
learned if David Parker 
could be questioned by 
a psychiatrist without 
being made aware that 
he was a suspect in the 
stranglings? There was 
one door open to Bot- 
tomly: In Massachu- 
setts, any male over 17 
indicted for a crime — if 

his crime or behavior 

warrant it — can be sent 
for 35 days' psychiatric observation to the 
State Hospital at Bridgewater, Mass., 
to determine his competence to stand 
trial. On January 22, the day Parker 
was arrested, Judge A. Edward Viola in 
Cambridge, observing his manner ( David 
leaped onto a courtroom table and be- 
gan a hillbilly jig) had ordered him to 

Bottomly telephoned Dr. Ames Robey, 
medical director at the institution, 25 
miles from Boston, Would Dr. Robey 
give David Parker special attention, 
with a view to eliciting material helpful 
in the strangling investigations? Dr. 

Robey, a precocious 


this roller 
gives you 
30 days 
of body! 

And there are 30 rollers 
with Bobbi Roller Perm. Made to 
put body, bounce and 
beautiful behavior in today's 
sleek styles. Roll 'em up 
and dab on 
the Bobbi Roller Perm lotion. 
Just once-a-month! 
Now you need set 
only after shampoos -'cause 
Bobbi Roller Perm 
gives permanent body. 


scientist who, at the age of 35, had just 
been appointed to his post, agreed, pro- 
\ided that the patient's ci\-il rights were 
safeguarded. Before Bottomly turned 
his attention to Peter Hurkos again, he 
sent Dr. Robey a long memorandum on 
the 11 stranglings, listing clues that 
might guide him in his interrogations. 


Lssistant Attorney General Julian 
Soshnick was sent to pick up Thomas 
O'Brien, the shoe salesman accused by 
Peter Hurkos. Soshnick was accompanied 
by a phj-sician and two police officers 
when he knocked on O'Brien's door. 

They saw an emaciated man about 
five feet seven, in liis mid-50's, effemi- 
nate in manner. His nose was thin and 
sharp — "spitzy" — as Hurkos had said. 
On his left arm was a scar — as Hurkos 
had said. The thtunb of his right hand 
was deformed — as Hurkos had said. 
Questioned by the physician, O'Brien 
said he thought he might be the Stran- 
gler, he had told his brother that he 
might have blacked out several times. 
The physician signed commitment pa- 
pers on the spot. Minutes later he and 
O'Brien were on their way to the Massa- 
chusetts Mental Health Center, and the 
others were searching the shoe salesman's 

Here was a diary, with dates indicat- 
ing that O'Brien had been keeping it al- 
most from his college days. On one page, 
printed in capital letters, doubly under- 
lined, were the words: always run 


followed by confession. "Once, while 
near Harvard, I looked at a girl, per- 
haps at her legs. ... I am domg all that 
is humanly possible to master human 
nature and I know I am chaste at last. I 
am going on 44 years, almost." 

Soshnick was still reading the diary 
when Peter Hurkos stormed in, highly 
excited. He began scuttling about the 
room, crawling under the cot, into the 
cramped closet, muttering, "This fel- 
low, he put on paper all killings, we find 
it. . . ." He snatched up a pamphlet, 
pressed it to his forehead. "This it !" he 
cried. He opened it. "Look !" 

It was a text on Yoga, with black and 
white drawings. In a section devoted to 
female figures, page after page had been 
blacked out with India ink. Dimly 
\Tsible under the ink were the outlines of 
female figures, now seated cross-legged 
in the Lotus position, now vnth legs 
spread. Peter counted aloud. "One . . . 
two . . . three . . ." until he reached a 
triumphant "Eleven!" There were a 
dozen more pages with female illus- 
trations, but only 11 of them had been 
inked out. 

One figure for each of the Strangler's 

In a bureau drawer Officer Delaney 
found half a dozen men's scarves and 
neckties knotted together. In another 
drawer they came upon a notepad with 
penciled sketches of apartment buildings 
and interiors. One was a bathroom. An X 
had been drawn over the tub. (Victim 
Jane Sullivan had been found in a tub ). 
Another showed a living room and a 
kitchen — the X was in the kitchen. (Anna 
Slesers had been found in her kitchen. ) 
Another scene showed a bedroom, an X 
on the bed near the headboard (Mary 
Sullivan had been found propped against 
the headboard.) 

O'Brien'a landlady app<'ared aH the 
men were ieavirin. Ych, thiK roomer wan 
an odd one. ile never uited the mat- 

tress — "I guess he sleeps on the floor," 
and he took showers with !iis shoes on. 
"Did you ever hear the like?" she asked. 

Hurkos, who had said, "He love 
shoes!" looked sharply at his com- 
panions. "He the one," he said. 

O'Brien's questioning at the Mental 
Health Center occupied the next two 
afternoons. It was a sad experience for 
everyone concerned. With a hospital 
psychiatrist attending, O'Brien sat on 
the edge of his bed, trembling. He did 
not have to answer questions if he did 
not wish to, he was told. He could have 
a lawyer, if he wanted one. No, he said, 
why should he need a lawj'er? Yes, he 
had sold shoes off and on for years. 
Nurses' shoes, women's orthopedic shoes. 

Soshnick unexpectedly put in front of 
O'Brien a police photograph of Mary 
Sullivan's nude corpse. "Look, Tom, you 
know what I'm talking about. Don't be 
afraid, Tom. . . ." 

O'Brien was turning his head, refusing 
to look at the photograph. 

"No, no, Tom, you must look. Here" — 
Soshnick displayed a second photo- 
graph, a third. 

O'Brien's face was gray. "You show 
me pictures, pictures of dead women, 
terrible, terrible, what do you mean?" 

"Don't you remember this girl, Tom?" 
Soshnick asked, holding up Mary Sulli- 
van's photograph. "Tom, don't you 
remember taking off her shoes, and 
then " 

"No, no, never, never." 

Bottomly produced the apartment 
sketches found in O'Brien's room. 'Wliat 
did the X's mean? 

"Oh, those were art exercises," he 
said. "I was studying to be a commer- 
cial artist. You made the over-all sketch 
first, putting the X's as you go along to 
indicate what you must ink in, then you 
go over it later and ink them in." 

Why had he drawn the exteriors of 
apartment houses? 

That was a game he played with his 
brother, who used to drop in of an eve- 
ning. His brother would say, "Do you 
remember the building we lived in on 
Franklin Street?" Then each would 
draw it as they remembered it, then 
compare drawings and argue who was 
right. "It was just something to do," 
said O'Brien. 

Why had he blotted out M femal 
figures in the Yoga book? 

Was that the number? He didn't knov 
why 11. But he always covered femal 
figures; when he copied from ancien 
statues in his art work, he liked to dra\ 
in dresses and skirts. 

Why were the knotted scarves an( 
ties in his drawer? 

"I was saving those to give to St 
Vincent de Paul." 

The questioners were silent. Here wa 
Hurkos's man, but he had admitte( 
nothing. Bottomly asked, not unkindly 
"Have you had enough of us now 
You look rather tired." 

"I guess maybe I have," said O'Brien 
He tried to muster a smile. "I guess yoi 
probably have had enough of me." 

Late that night Hurkos left Boston 
"My work finished," he said. He shod 
hands warmly with Soshnick, who tool 
him to the airport. "Julian, you my goo( 
friend," he said. "Be careful. I se« 
broken bicycle — dangerous. Take care.' 
He patted Soshnick's shoulder. "Tha 
O'Brien — you see, Julian, he the man 
he the Strangler." The next day Bostoi 
newspapers would have a circus with tht 
news of Hurkos's secret visit, the dispub 
over the Attorney General's use of 
psychic, but Hurkos would be away froB 
it all, in New York, resting. 

Within 72 hours of Hurkos's depar 
ture, the FBI roused him from sleep ii 
his New York hotel, and arrested him oi 
a charge of having impersonated an FB 
agent months earlier. Hurkos denied thi 
charge, saying it was a misunderstanding 
due to his bad English. In due course 
the charges were dismissed. 

Bottomly and Soshnick seethed witl 
anger. The Boston police had made m 
secret of their attitude toward Hurkos 
His arrest was obviously a move to dis 
credit Hurkos, and Attorney Genera 
Brooke as well. No one forgot thai 
Police Commissioner McNamara was 
former FBI agent. 

One newspaper headlined its story 
Hurkos Fr.\med! Bottomly demanded 
to know why the FBI hadn't told him' 
they planned to arrest Hurkos: it was 
courtesy due the Attorney General' 
office. And why had the arrest taker 
place so long after the alleged offense' 

'Remember haw you med Ui boil every Hingk thing he might come in conlaet with?" 


"It t'Kjk us two hours to find Hurkos in 
California, yet it took the FBI nearly 
two months to get their man," Bot- 
tomly said angnly. 
Brickbats came from all sides. The 
Liberties Union suggested that 
Tom O'Brien's ci\il rights might have 
been violated. ( On Februar>' 13, the staff 
of the Mental Health Center recom- 
mended 35 days' additional obsen ation 
for O'Brien. In the end, he voluntarily 
recommitted himself to the institution.; 

Late on the night of 
Peter Hurkos's arrest in 
New York, Julian Sosh- 
nick wearily drove his 
car into his garage. The 
Hurkos episode, so in- 
tense, so bizarre, had 
taken a great deal out of 
him. Now, as he was 
about to shut the garage 
doors, he remembered 
Hurkos's farewell warn- 
ing about a "broken bi- 
cycle." Feeling a little 
foolish, Soshnick un- 
locked the storeroom in 
rhich bicycles were 
kept. His wife's bicycle 
was fine. But when he 
tpun the front wheel of 
his daughter's bicycle, 
the wheel wobbled at : 
spun off the a.xle. 

He <i.»x\ there, ut- 
terly baffled. 

In the maximum se- 
curity ward of Bridgt^ 
Iter State Hospital, 
Dr. Ames Robey was 
sitting with David 
Parker. Guards were 
conveniently near. Par- 
ker was high, and talk- 
ing." Do you know what 
I'd do with women?" 
he demanded. "If I had 
my way I'd torture 


From the beginning 
of Parker's commitment 
he had been extremely 
laycfaotic. He had ripped 
his left arm open with 
Ub fingernails, banged 
his head against the 
walls of his c^l. He was 
placed in isolation, and 
on suicide precaution— 
which meant li\'ing in a 
cell without dothes or 
A<je&, w.Ki -h he might 
■e to injure himself. 

"A world without 
romen?" Dr. Robey 
was saying. 

Parker smiled. "Oh, 

nderful, absolutely 

jnderful !" He knew ! 

one girt, in Cambridge, 
about whom he did not feel bitter. Since 
he had been kicked out of Har\-ard he 
had been living in Troy, X.Y., working 
ni a factory- there; he often came up to 
Boston to see the giri. 

Dr. Robey asked, "\Mien would you 
come up?" 

"Usually on weekends," Parker re- 
plied. "That's the only time I could get 
away from my job." 

As Dr. Robey knew, nine of the 11 
: .-anglings had taken place on week- 
ends. The boy had no idea that he was 
■Ospected of the stranglings. 

Dr. Robey changed the subject- "Da- 
•^id, do you drink?" 

"Only beer. 

^'Do you have a favorite beer?" 

"Well, what I really like best I can't 
get around here. It's called Lucky 

Lucky Lager was sold only in Cali- 
fornia. What startled Dr. Robey was the 
fact, among those given him by Bot- 
tomly, that tavern keepers in the neigh- 
borhoods of two stranglings— Joann 
Graff's in Lawrence and Mary Sulli- 
van's in Boston— had reported a cus- 

you were going to kill somebody, what 
kind of knot would you tie?" 

It was a tactical error. Parker drew 
back. "Hey, what's going on here?" He 
looked suspiciously from one man to the 
other. "Do you think I'm the Boston 
Strangler, or something? I want my 
lawyer." The questioning was over. 

A day after Peter Hurkos left Boston, 
Bottomly visited Bridgewater to discuss 
David Parker with Dr. Robey and Act- 
ing Captain Cullinane. The coincidences, 

Why Fems? 
Because women 
aren't always 

size 10 or under. 


Fems feminine napkins are designed for the woman 

ho is average size or a little bigger. The extra 
. - ngth of this napkin gives you greater absorbency, 
much better fit. .'\nd extra-length tabs allow better, 
more comfortable placement, keep napkin from slipping. 
-Naturally, two safet}" shields add even more protection. 
Size up your situation and consider Fems. P. S. They're dainty-pink. 

Fems is a registered irademark of Kimberly-Clark Corp. 

tomer asking on the day of the stran- 
glings for "Luck>- Lager beer" in one in- 
stance, and "Luck>- beer" in the other. 

On his next \Tsit to Parker, Dr. Robey 
was accompanied by a fellow psychia- 
trist. .\fter a few minutes of amiable 
conversation. Dr. Robey turned to a 
keeper. "Will \ou get Da\-id his shoes? 
I think he can have them now, and his 
feet must be cold." 

He watched as the boy slipped on his 
shoes and tied the laces— ?»«d \hem iciOi 
the extra half hitch, o^d then the bow— the 
Strangler" s knot. 

Dr. Robey's associate handed David 
a piece of string. "David." he said, "if 

ihey agreed, were startling. Dr. Robey 
and his associates said that Parker was 
an "extremely good suspect" in the 
strangulation murders. On February 7, 
after consultation with David's attor- 
ney, the boy was committed lo Bridge- 
water for further obsen ation. He was— 
no question of it— a dangerous person. 

At that moment neither Dr. Robey 
nor Bottomly recalled what Peter Hur- 
kos had said when asked the comple.xion 
of the Strangler. "Not a colored man. 
\Miite," Peter had said. "But ... he 
make it colored." David Parker? Who 
had used Man-Tan to darken his face 
for the role of Othello? 

In mid-March Dr. Leo Alexander, 
professor of psychiatry at Tufts medical 
school, received a telephone call from 
Assistant Attorney General Bottomly. 
Mr. Bottomly needed a psychiatrist 
skilled in the use of so-called truth serums 
to examine a Mr. Paul Gordon, who 
claimed to possess extrasensory jjereep- 
tion, and had a surprisingly detailed 
knowledge of the stranglings. 

Dr. Alexander, Bottomly said, had 
been recommended as an expert in the 
use of truth serums. This 
Paul Gordon, he went 
on, had been insisting 
that a mental patient 
named Arnold Wallace, 
now at Bridgewater, was 
the Strangler, revealed 
to him through E.S.P. 
Gordon felt the police 
did not believe him; so 
he had offered himself 
far examination. In any 
event, "Gordon just 
seems to know too 
much," Bottomly said. 
He wanted to know 
whether Dr. Alexander 
would be prepared to 
administer "truth se- 
rum" drugs to Gordon 
in his consultation 
rooms, in cooperation 
with Dr. Ralph Bran- 
cale, director of the New 
Jersey Slate Diagnostic 
Center. Dr. Brancalehad 
had long experience with 
psychopathic criminals. 

Dr. Alexander is a 
\'iennese-born physician 
in hLs early 60's. Since 
1940 he had used so- 
dium Amytal in the 
treatment of disturbed 
patients, finding it help- 
ful in the diagno.sis of 
schizophrenia. Under its 
influence, mute schizo- 
phrenics could express 
their feelings o\>en]y. 

To speak of "truth 
serums," however, was 
incorrect, as Dr. Alex- 
ander pointed out to his 
students. Sodium Pen- 
lathol and sodium 
.Amvtal suppressed the 
higher critical faculties 
of the brain, so that the 
patient more easily re- 
vealed his feelings. Nat- 
ural behavior was re- 
vealed—but natural be- 
havior was not neces- 
sarily honest behavior. 
One could lie in a most 
fanciful manner, because 
the drug also relea.sed 
the imagination. 
Since inquisitorial use of the drug 
raised medical-legai issues, both physi- 
cians asked that a legal agreement be 
drawn up stating clearly what was being 
done, and why. Gordon, accompanied 
by his lawyer, arrived at Dr. Alexander's 
office Saturday morning, March 21, 
1964. The legal document was signed in 
quadruplicate by Gordon, his attorney, 
Bottomly, and Doctors Alexander and 
Brancale before Gordon took his journey 
into the depths of his own psyche. 

Gordon lay on a couch in the rear of 
Dr. Alexander's office, in a darkened 
room. The group, which now included 
Detectives DiNatale, (continued i 



Mellon and Delaney, watched silently as 
the anesthetist inserted a needle into 
Gordon's left arm. The drug, a mixture 
of Methadrine and sodiiim Pentathol, 
began to flow. 

"We shall keep the needle in the vein 
throughout the interview so we can reg- 
ulate the state of emotional expressive- 
ness," Dr. Alexander said. 

Drop by drop the drug entered Gor- 
don's bloodstream; two tape recorders 
were slowly turning. Suddenly Gordon 

"Are you comfortable, Mr. Gordon?" 

Dr. Alexander asked. 

"Fine, fine," came the answer, "ex- 
cept that I see everjthing in duplicate 
and triplicate." 

"Good." Then, almost formally, "Now 
tell us about Mar>- SuUivan. . . ." 

For the next six hours, excepting a 
break for cofiee and sandwiches, Gordon 
was interrogated as he lay on the couch, 
mainly by Dr. Alexander, sometimes by 
Dr. Brancale and on occasion by Di- 
Natale and Mellon. 

Dr. Brancale and the detectives had 
been up untfl 3 a.m., pla\-ing tapes of 
police interviews with Gordon. DiNatale 
and Mellon had checked exhaustively on 
the E.S.P. man. In a \isit to his apart- 
ment they had been surprised to note 
that Mrs. Gordon was 12 to 15 years 
older than her husband. They had also 
been struck by her resemblance to the 
Strangler's older ^^ctims: the same round 
face, full jaw, even metal-rim spectacles. 

From other sources they had heard 
that his mother was "ver\% ver\' affec- 
tionate" to him: she gave him his hair- 
cuts, called him endearing names, con- 
stantly fussed over him as though he 
were a small boy. 

"TeU us about Man.- Sullivan," Dr. 
Alexander had ordered. Gordon, soimd- 
ing dmnk, was sa>ing, "I came up with 
a mental image of a guy " 

"What did he do to Mar\- Sulli\-an?" 

"Now, now!" Gordon soimded an- 
noyed. "Strangling to me is repulsive. 
I don't know what happened there, I 
don't want to know." 

"You say Arnold Wallace did this. 
What did he actiially do to Nina 

"Why, he killed her. He didn't mean 
to kill her. He meant to get them into a 
condition where they would listen to 
him, and his only method of getting 
them into a passive state was to choke 
them until they were unconsdous " 

"Was there some sexual danait in 

"Not the way you think." 
"Well, what way?" 
"Oh, the poor guy. ..." Gordon 

"Where was Mar>- Sullivan kffled?" 
a detective asked. 

"In the bedroom," said Gordon. 

"Was an\thing left on her bed?" his 
questioner asked. Would Gordon say, 
yes, a kr.ife, a New Year's greeting 
card— facts he should not know? 

He was silent, 

"An- •A'- oming through to you. 


ft ;<rrtl,t>; ill 

me Gordon's voice, 
'.n the bed." 
hour. At one 
• ■ • ^oto- 
i re- 

tne i>nm lo ^ bal- 

lerina photograph. The little giri, said 
Gordon, reminded Wallace of a doll his 
sister once had years ago, and he took 
the photograph off the wall fondly. 
"Oh, he loved that doll," said Gordon. 
"Arnold should have been a woman." 

Dr. .Alexander played a himch. "Mr. 
Gordon, don't you think the man who 
has done all this wants to be caught, so 
he can be relieved of this terrible burden 
he carries " 

"No," said Gordon. 

" — and show how wonderful he is, 
and be relieved of this terrible burden he 
carries?" Dr. Alexander repeated. 

"I want to throw up," Gordon said. 

Later, they had coffee and sandwiches, 
all except Gordon, who slept tmtil he 
was roused by an injection of Metha- 
drine. The questioning resumed. Now 
Gordon appeared to go into a mild auto- 
matic state in which he became the 
Strangler, and actually carried on a so- 
liloquy with his terrified ^^ctim; then he 
became the %-ictim, trying to speak in a 
gasping whisper. . . . 

For a time during these surrealistic 
hours, Gordon was not only murderer 
and \-ictim but also Wallace's mother, 
crooning endearments to her son. His 
voice became warm, caressing, moth- 
erly: "No, you don't want a girl like that, 
Arnold, you want a girl like old Mama, 
someone that really imderstands you. 
Mother knows. Sure, she knows. . . ." 

One's mind swam. 

Later, Bottomly spoke privatdy with 
the two psj-chiatrists. Dr. Brancale did 
not think Gordon was the Strangler, nor 
did he think Gordon possessed E.S.P. 
How to explain how Gordon knew de- 
tails of the crimes not publicly known? 
Dr. Brancale suggested that Gordon, be- 
cause of his compelling interest in the 
crimes, had unconsciously incorporated 
into his thinking even.- detail he had 
heard and read about the cases. 

Dr. Alexander spoke cautiously. If no 
reference to a photograph of a ballerina 
had appeared in the newspapers. Gor- 
don must be considered a suspect. One 

more possibilitj- complicated matters. 
Suppose Gordon were the Strangler, but 
did not know it? 

Three weeks later, on the ground that 
he had failed to exhibit E.S.P. under 
sodiimi Pentathol, Gordon was asked if 
he would allow himself to be inteniewed 
again, this time by Dr. Max Rinkel, a 
Boston psychiatrist who had helped 
elicit confessions from Peter Kurtin, the 
hatchet murderer of Diisseldorf. 

Gordon agreed, but at the last mo- 
ment reftised to be put under the influ- 
ence of drugs. It was ob^^ous, he said 
angrily, that the police believed he had 
been on the scene of the murders. 

Would he explain how he knew about 
the photograph of the ballerina in Ida 
Irga"s apartment? 

"I don't know how I knew it," he said. 
"I don't know if there was such a pic- 
ture. Maybe it"s all imagination." 

A detective spoke up. "There was a 
picture, Paul." 

"Then I feel better," he said. 

lothing was settled. 
There was nothing to do but to ex- 
amine even more exhaiatively ever>- 
possible stispect, meanwhile keeping an 
eye on four men in particular: 

On Thomas O'Brien, at this moment 
behind the walls of the Massachusetts 
Mental Health Center, protesting that 
he had nothing to tell anyone about 

On Arnold Wallace, at this moment 
behind the walls of the State Hospital at 
Bridgewater, who was too psychotic to 
teU anyone an>-thing; 

On Da\"id Parker, at this moment be- 
hind the same walls, who would not tell 
anyone anj-thing; 

On Paul Gordon, free to go about Bos- 
ton, holding to himself whatever secrets 
he possessed beyond the reach of h\-p- 
notic drugs, yet ready to teU everyone 

(The story of the Boston Strmtglar wM be 
continued next motiik.) 

My r d/itm't like mt . Sht afy\ijn»d mt to 

the ndf oftht room lutiny the wrong UjtAhpatite." 


Here b a handy listing of r«cipes ap 
ing in this issue, including those froi 
Journal kitchens and adverttseni 


De\-iled Ham Pin Wheeb. page 8&. 
Good Beef Spread, page 94. 


Da\-j- Crockett Dodgers, page 90. 
Yeast Bread for Busy Poets, page 10 

Cassata. page 106. 
Floating Island, page 106. 
Fruit Gelatin Treats, page 91. 
Half Moon .Apple Pies, page 100. 
Marlborough Pie. page 90. 
Orange fTavored Gingerbread, page 
Peachiest Ice Cream, page 105. 
Scotch Oatcakes, page 106. 


Asparagus Omelet Emmeotal. paee 
Basic Omelet Recipe, page 101. 
Farmer's Breakfast, page 101. 
Frittata, page 101. 
Ham Omelet, page 102. 
Italian Shrimp Omelet, page 102. 
Omdet Confiture, page 102 
Omdet Francesco, page 102. 
Onion Omelet, page 1 02. 
Piperade. page 101. 
Pufiy Omelet— Basic Recipe. p>age li 
Squiggled Eggs, page 101. 


Austrian Shepherd's Pie. page 86. 
BreadloafBarb?cue. pa^ 101 
Curried Com Beef Timbales, nage 
Hamburger Stroganc^, page 90. 
Jager EohL page 104. 
Lobster Rolls, page 90. 
Panned Ham. page 90. 
ncadillo. page 90. 
Presidential Chili, page 90. 
Spaghetti with Green Sauce, page 
Top-Stove Meat Loaf, page 89. 


Beef Tongue Vinaigrette, page S;. 
Flamenco Veal Chops, pa^ 94. 
Frosty Beef Galantine, page 88. 

Beef Tongues, page 90. 
Pasties <rf St. John the Baptist, pagei 
Sauce Mmnay for Omelet EmmetJ 
page 102 


Bavarian Arme Leute (Poor Folk's S« 

page 104 
Beans Xictnse. page 104. 
Bean Salad Babylon, page 1(M. 
Beef Eggs Surprise, page 88. 
Blender Cole Slaw, page 92. 
Cabbage and Peanuts, page 104. 
Cajim Red Bean Salad, page 104 
Chinese Bean Salad, page I<M. 
Curried Sikh Salad, page 102. 
Italian Bean and .\rtichoke Salad. 


Lentils Hidden in Tomatoes, page 10. 
Lomi-Lomi Salmon, page 90. 
Three-Bean Salad, page 102. 
Vintner's Potato Salad, page 106. 
Wax Beans Vinaigrette, page 10-2 


Black Bean Soup in Avocado Halves, 
page 90 

Cold Cucumber Soup (Spoonab!'- p| 

Iced Black Bean Cup. page 104. 
Poor Poet's Borach. page 104. 


Boiled (,'om on the Cob, page 90. 
Preneh Fried Queen .Anne's Lace. | 
French Fried Wild Carrot Flowefs. | 

Pennaylvania Dutch Style Green 
page 93. 

Plain Indian Wild Cucumbers, pagej 
Vegetables Quo Vadis. page \ '^f>. 


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Martha Petrash 


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Neil Costa 
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143. 147 





FOOD 35 

Were You Born to Be Overweight? Patricia and Rona r . 
One Woman Can Make the Difference: A Blueprint fc 

Day-Care Action Gwen Gibson 
Why I Feel Sorry for Lurieen Wallace and Alabama 

Lucille Irwin Smylie 
Nancy Sinatra Talks about Life with Father Vennjn Scott 
The Boston Strangler Gerold Frank 

How America Lives: The Malones in Moscow Lois Benja' — 
The Robert Smylies: A Different Kind of First Family— Fre- •• 
Unfancy Lois R. Chevalier 

Our Readers Write Us 

Guess What! Lois Benjamin 

Pet News Bil Gilbert 

If It Were My Child . . . 

The Etiquette of Divorce Amy Vanderbitt 

Spending Your Money Sylvia Porter 

Critic-at-Large Judith Crist 

Journal Miss Margaret Kadison 

Dialogue with Mothers: The Danger of Teaching Your Baby 

to Read Dr. Bruno Bettelheim 
Can This Marriage Be Saved? Domthy Cameron Disney 
Medicine Today Phyllis Wright M.D.. with Victor Cohn 
Wish You Were Here Barbara Walters 
•'How Fragile Is Your Marriage?" Art Buchwahj 
Shopping Center 

An Hour in September Elizabeth Enright 

Fashion Site 

How America Looks 

Paris: Top Billing Nora O'Leary 

Things Your Mother Never Taught You 
Puff Pastry Is Child's Play Poppy Cannon 
Feasts for All Seasons Roy Andries de Groot 
French Fries Grandma Never Fixed 
Line a Day 

Things to Do with Soup Mixes 
Wine. Women and So On 
Recipe Index 


S8 Young Family, Old House, New Kitchen Margaret Danmlson 

J. M. CUFFORD President 


Cover photograph by CLAUDE VIRGIN. Other credits not on page: 17-Arnold Arlow; 30-top photograph by David ll^cCab e ; d' 
Woods: 108-John Alcorn. 

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Day-Care Campaign 

Dear Editor.'^: Never have I read a series 
of articles (Day-Care Centers, June and 
July Journal) that expresses so well and 
clearly what I have felt. I would have 
given anything to have been able to 
trust my children to a day-care center. I 
have four children, the youngest are twin 
boys. They did not sleep through a full 
night until they were over two years old. 
I had no help, and the precious years of 
my twins' infancy are lost to my mem- 
ory as a great fog of fatigue; that period 
also took away from my older son and 
daughter. A solution would be a blessing 
for both parents and children. 

Mrs. Frieda Wheeler 
OreyoH City, Oreg. 

Dear Edilonf : Mothers of America should 
fight this with every breath as a design 
to take away our children's birthright — 
the right to being brought up in a home 
filled with love of God and country, and 
the desire to work for the things we want. 
What will we become if our children are 
filled with the knowledge that the 
government will supply their needs? 

Mrs. Carolyn H. Hopper 
Atlanta, Ga. 

Dear Editors: Thank goodness someone 
has finally written about the tremendous 
need for qualified child care. It's pretty 
difficult not to worry about children 
when you know that they are being 
looked after by someone who probably 
took the job not because they had any 
feeling or training but because they were 
not qualified to do anything else. This 
country will never completely utilize its 
educated womanpower until there is ad- 
equate trained care for children. 

Mrs. E. J. Cassell 
Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Dear Editors : I couldn't be more shocked 
and dismayed by your article. Granted, 
there are some mothers who have to 
work and some who are happier working. 
My gripe is that I felt you were en- 
couraging young mothers to look for an 
"out" from their children. I know many 
mothers who give up careers for their 
children and mothers who work and still 
do a good job with their children. But, 
let's not encourage this attitude by state 
nurseries. It's my privilege to rear my 
children, and I can think of no greater 
concept of fulfillment for a woman. 

Mrs. Arthur Lain 
Westloini, N. Y. 

Wf have received a great many leltern in 
rexjxmHe to the first two articles (June and 
.Inly) of our campaiyn to promote day- 
care centers in the United States. 
Thr: e letters have, naturally, reflected mi ny 
dijh rent shades of fei liny we have printed 
jusl a sampliny here. As the articles con- 
tinue, we hope you will continue to share 
your feelings with us. El). 

He Never Said Good-bye 


Dear Editors: I am a widow of a year 
and a half, and Mrs. Rosen's sharing of 
her experience of widowhood (He Ne\ ek 
Said Goou-uye, July Journal) put into 
words so many things I have found to be 
true. My husband was a joyous man, the 
kind who allowed me to be an independ- 
ent person. Because of his love and in- 
fluence, I dare to think of my future in 
terms of usefulness. Mrs. Rosen has 
helped to dear my thinking. 

Mrs. Henry Betts 

Austinlmry, Ohio 

When the Obstetrician Is Late 

Dear Editors: Thank you for publishing 
What Really Happens When Your 
Obstetrician Is Late (June Journal). 
I do hope it helps future children's 
chances for a normal, healthy life. It is 
too late for our little boy, who is retarded 
physically and mentally from this un- 
necessary wait at birth. It is a very sad 
thing to have happen out of pure 
negligence. ^^g^ p^.j. murphv 

Meridian, Calif. 

Dear Editors: Patricia and Robert Bren- 
ner's article about What Really Hap- 
pens When Your Obstetrician Is 
Late perpetuates the old myth that 
mental deficiency is caused by pressure 
on the baby's head during childbirth. 

Pressure on the infant's head during 
childbirth must be terrific. Sometimes 
for hours the head is jammed in the 
birth canal by strong labor pains while 
the mother's muscles slowly stretch and 
dilate. The last moment, when the head 
is free and the pressure continues on the 
child's body, must send blood into the 
head under great pressure. 

Yet vaginal delivery is the safest. 
There is far more trouble with infants 
delivered by Caesarean section, but the 
Caesarean babies never suffer any pres- 
sure on their heads. 

I fear the Brenners' article will cause 
unnecessary anxiety in expectant 
mothers. j^^^g l_ Fjsher, M.D. 

Youngstoum, Ohio 

Skirts or Slacks? 

Dear Editors :Tm dragging out the soap- 
box, in an effort to put women back in 
skirts! I feel that, somewhere, there are 
those who will admit that slacks do not 
do a thing to enhance a woman's ap- 
pearance. When women give up skirts in 
favor of more manly garb, they are just 

going one step further from femininity 

Add slacks or shorts to hair rollers, 
floppy sandals, and it's almost more than 
the eye can behold. Who can truly ad- 
mire a woman who goes shopping, to a 
movie, or even to parties in such a getu|)? 
This is written with the knowledge that 
some of my slack-wearing friends will 
immediately mark me off their lists, aiul 
I'll grieve, but guess I'll just have to go 
out and beat the bushes until I find the 
few remaining skirt-wearers. I might 
even organize a club. Anyone want to 

j"'""' Mrs. Dan C. Garkott 

Mayfield, Kij. 

Editor's note: In the July Journal, the 
column Have You Heard contained an 
item Ixised on a report by a University of 
('(difornia music specialist, Nicholas 
Slonimsky. The item did not stale that the 
original report first appeared in the pe- 
riodical. Medical Opinion and Review. 
I'he .Journal regrets Ihr omission. 



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hy James Beard 

America's foremost cook-author . 

A thoughtful mother bestows her 
creative flair on the most everyday 
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the rush of sandwich making? 

If bread is the body, filling is the 
soul. Change spreads in simple 
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with plain butter or margarine. Add 
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Bright home managers let the 

freezer organize lunch. Instead of 
one sandwich at a time, you make 
several; wrap in sandwich-size 
Baggies®, and deposit them by the 
dozen in the bigger Baggies plastic 
bags.' Individual sandwiches, re- 
moved as needed, thaw out fresh 
between morn and noon. 

Several thin slices of meat taste 
better than one big slice! Of course, 
the best way to keep all meat juicy 
and fresh from a roast to the last 
leftover is in Baggies. These mois- 
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Wrap and Jumbo sizes are. Made 
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Ti-y tuna with pineapple and celery. 
Good cooking to you. 

Guess What! 

There's an Efficiency Expert in My Bathroom! 
By Lois Benjamin 

I woke up, as usual, to the homely, 
happy sound of water. Running, 
rushing, splashing, flushing, gurgling, 
gargling water. Somewhere, deep in 
the next-door apartment, a bath- 
room's busy day had begun. It was a 
bathroom, I reflected sleepily, that 
undoubtedly matched mine down to 
the last unreachable chrome towel 
bar, the jammed, unclosable medi- 
cine chest, the door that cleared the 
bathtub by 'lo of an inch, provided 
you didn't hang your washcloth on 
the tub rim. 

Anyway, my neighbors were in the 
bathroom. They were, like everyone 
else in town, brushing with the num- 
ber one decay-preventive and watch- 
ing the cap roll gently down the drain. 
They were instructing their 3-year- 
old in the delicate art of bathroom 
marksmanship and protocol ("No, 
dear, you flush after — and once is 
enough!"), and groping soapily for 
two inches of porcelain on which to 
rest their wet razor and pushbutton 
shave-cream can. 

k3uddenly it struck me that there 
was something odd about the sound 
of that water this morning. Odd, and 
very significant. Then I realized why. 
This was the morning I was to meet 
the world's greatest living expert on 
American bathrooms: Professor Alex- 
ander Kira, director of Cornell Uni- 
versity's historic five-year, 116-page, 
hot-and-cold running study, The 
Bathroom. Professor Kira's startling 
new report had, it was said, done for 
bathrooms what Ralph Nader did 
for cars, what John le Carre did for 
spies, what Rachel Carson did for 

I had heard that Kira charged, 
among other things, that the Amer- 
ican bathroom hasn't progressed an 
inch— functionally speaking— in 50 
years, or since the outhouse became 
definitely Out. 

Our fixtures, according to the pro- 
fessor, are primitive — and maybe 
not even that good. 

I bounded out of bed and peered 
into my own little primitive, trying to 
see it through professorial eyes. It 
was true; absolutely nothing spec- 
tacular had been added lately— noth- 
ing to compare, say, to the zippy elec- 
tric paper-towel dispenser or the 
jazzy pop-art refrigerator in my 
kitchen. Oh, I did have vinyl leopard 
spots on the walls. A brass-plated 
johnny storage unit with suspension 
poles. Color-coordinated towels. An 
electric toothbrush recharging mer- 
rily in the wall. My $40 gum mas- 
sager ($33.75 at the di.scounl house) 
didti'l quite (it on the sink, but it was 
I)retty impressive, I thought. (The 
Waldorf inslallr-d one just like it for 
Prince Philip's visit to New York 
and I bet Profetwor Kira dirln't hav« 

floral bathroom tissue and those cute 
little hollow statues designed to dis- 
guise the hairspray cans, my bath- 
room had gone just about as far as 
it could go. Functionally speaking, 
only the professor could tell me what 
to do now. 


one.; Still, unletut you 

I duln t have 
coflnled the 

'y the time I met him, I was in a 
state of total bathroom panic. He 
didn't look the least bit like a bath- 
room expert — which unnerved me 
even more. (Not that I've ever met 
another one for comparison — but 
Alexander Kira was tall, extremely 
handsome — you might even say 
clean-cut, except it would probably 
upset him — and looked as if he 
had never skidded in a tub in his 

"Have you finished with the bath- 
room yet?" I stammered. "I mean ..." 

Professor Kira smiled wanly. He 
was, he said, getting used to that sort 
of thing. "Ever since the report was 
published," he explained, "people 
have been a little embarrassed about 
talking to me. It's perfectly all right 
though. I don't even mind the letters 
any more." 

"What kind of letters?" I whis- 
pered hoarsely, furiously, trying not 
to blush. 

"People seem to have decided that 
I'm a sort of one-man national bath- 
room complaint bureau," he ex- 
plained, riveting his eyes on my beet- 
red face. "Whatever secret gripe they 
have about their shower heads, or the 
noise in their tanks, or even the trou- 
ble they have keeping the floor 
clean — they've just got to tell 
me about it. I wish they knew how 
much trouble I have with my shower 

"But don't you," I pressed, "want 
to be a fearless crusader for better 
bathrooms? After all, you're the only 
man who ever dared expose the mod- 
ern bathtub as the last place a per- 
son can go to relax. I flourished my 
fresh copy of The Bathroom at him, 
and began reading aloud from the 
part about tub bathing: "... a com- 
plex, strenuous, time-consuming, and 
sometimes potentially hazardous un- 

"Yes, of course I'm concerned 
about bathrooms. It's just that I'm 
not - shall we s&y — compulsive about 
them. The point is that today's 
tub is nothing more than a box to 
hold water in, while you bathe. 
The Minoans had that 2,000 years 

"But what should we have in- 
stead?" I persisted. 

"One of these," .said the professor, 
|)ointing lo a fantastic drawing in his 
hook, entitled Kxperimctital Relax- 
ing Washing Facility Incorporating 
Suggested Criteria. It had a non- 
slip surface, a contoured backrest, a 
foolresl, reverw slope bottom, re- 

cessed shelves with low-voltage light- 
ing, vertical grab safety bars, adjust- 
able shower. It looked spectacular, 
all right, but I suddenly found myself 
wondering how my burnt-umber 
shower curtain would look on a con- 
traption hke that. Terrible, that's 

"What have you got in mind for 
sinks?" I cut in hastily. 

He flipped quickly to Figure 10— 
Experimental Lavatory Incorpo- 
rating Suggested Criteria. "But 
where are the faucets?" I ventured 
meekly. "I just bought these beauti- 
ful crystal and gold dolphin-head 
faucets. . . ." 

The professor raised one magnifi- 
cent eyebrow. "No faucets. Throt- 
tles," he said quietly. There were two 
round-knobbed levers, in long slots, 
at the side of the sink. I pictured my 
bobby pins slipping comfortably down 
the slots, followed by all the pennies 
in my 3-year-old's piggy bank. ("No 
throttles," I said firmly, under my 
breath. "Faucets.") 

"Now here," the professor was 
saying, "is our experimental squat 
water closet incorporating suggested 
criteria." (A squat water closet, ac- 
cording to the Cornell study, is bet- 
ter for you, functionally, than a 
regulation-type toilet, which you just 
sit on in what the Cornell researchers 
say is an uncomfortable, unsup- 
ported, unhealthy position.) I swal- 
lowed hard and looked at the blue- 
print for the squat water closet. It 
had a push-up bar, seat padding, a 
built-in slot-type paper holder (you'd 
never see the floral prints, electric 
controls, special built-in washing 
jets, and a fold-down hinged seat. 
(There goes my new persim- 
mon enamel lid with the gold eagle 
on it.) 

"Very nice," I said, as cheerfully 
as I could. "And how soon do you 
think these will be available?" 

Professor Kira sighed. "Not for 
years," he confessed dejectedly. "The 
bathroom-fixture people just aren't 
ready for them yet— even if the pub- 
lic is." 

"Yes," I replied, feeling a lot bet- 
ter, "even if." 


said good-bye to the handsome 
professor and sped home to my 
hazardous, inefficient, primitive, 
leopard-walled, persimmon-seated, 
crystal-fauceted bathroom, and 
hopped nimbly 
into the shower, 
humming: "I'm 
gonna wash that 
man right out 
of my hair ..." 
Somehow, it 
didn't even hurl 
very much when 
I slipped on t he 
soap. END 




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